Mirror, Mirror
by FredNeverDied
Summary: What if Sirius had the other two-way mirror on him when he died and Harry was able to talk to his godfather and parents though it? "Sirius Black? Sirius Black!" "Pads, is that your pocket talking to you?" "I dunno, but it sounds like...no way, it couldn't have been there the whole time...Harry!" T for swearing and a tiny bit of suggestive-ness.
1. Duel

**_Mirror, Mirror_  
Duel**

Sirius Black's concentration was momentarily shaken as a curse shot against the wall over his opponent's head. The purple jet of light shattered like a vase, sending harmless sparks down on Bellatrix's head.

Right, right; Bellatrix! Concentrate! She was his dueling opponent and cousin and most importantly, a threat to his godson. But not for long if he could help it!

Sirius narrowly dodged a curse that would have sliced his arm off and aimed an _Expulso_ at her head. She ducked and twirled, yelling some incoherent spell, with light already forming at the tip of her wand when she about-faced and made a motion as if swinging a whip. He recognized the spell and put up a hurried Shield Charm as a golden chord swung towards him, arched over the shield, and cracked like a bull-whip just near his face.

Grinning widely at Bellatrix's obvious displeasure at not having even touched him, Sirius aimed a high Disarming spell to distract her and touched the ground with his wand while she wasn't looking. The floor rippled towards her at lightening-speed and the wave knocked her off balance. But before Sirius could put a Full-Body Bind on her, she had recovered and quickly made it necessary for him to duck a Stunning curse.

All in all, Sirius had missed this feeling _so_ much.

Euphoria was what it was. Sheer terror, copious amount of pumping adrenaline, raw pleasure at venting out frustration, and delicious triumph with every hit; there was nothing like taking your life in your hands with a duel. And after being pent up inside for _months, _almost an entire damn _year_, this was almost too much excitement to handle.

Knowing he could beat her was the best part. They'd dueled in school a few times, she being only few years older than he but those scraps had typically ended in draws. However, in the early days of the Order, once he'd gotten older and better at dueling, he'd arrived on scene countless times to a Death Eater attack, only to find her torturing some Muggle or cackling as she surveyed the damage of a half-destroyed neighborhood.

He'd nearly beaten her almost every time (and _fine_, so maybe James had usually helped…but just a _little_) but every fight, just as he was going to give the final blow, something to knock her out cold for the Ministry to pick up like trash and anchor her to the spot so her little devil friends couldn't Side-Along her in a pinch, the Order had to evacuate.

Or a nearby explosion knocked them both to the ground and she escaped.

Or over her shoulder he saw Pettigrew getting his ass kicked and needed to step in.

Or James shouted his casually comical, "I'm in need of assistance!" only for everyone to look up and see that he'd dove straight into where the fighting was at its thickest, had his back against a wall, was dueling four enemies at once, and desperately needed someone's "assistance".

Or (and this only happened once or twice) one of the other Death Eaters came to her rescue. (And most likely, was promptly Obliviated on their return to headquarters so that he would never tell the others that the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange had been in a bind.)

But not this time. This time he _had_ her. This time Sirius would have her knocked out, trussed up, and packaged with a fancy bow. Perhaps the display would be enough to convince the Ministry he was innocent. He would give anything to see the look on Fudge's face as he, Sirius Black "wanted felon," delivered Voldemort's Second-in-Command over to him like an early Christmas present.

He smiled again at the thought as he dodged another badly aimed curse. Her frustration was making her sloppy and it was sweet justice to see her angry grimace to know that he was winning. He'd hit her once in the leg, though that was when he'd engaged in the fight and had the element of surprise on his side, but the fact remained that she had yet to wound him.

With a scream of indignation at his knowing smirk, she sent a _Stupefy_ that over sailed his head by almost a meter. Sirius had to laugh at that. Because _oh_, these skills of hers were becoming just _pathetic_.

'"Come on, you can do better that that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.'

With a snarl and a twist of her wand that was too fast to react to, a jet of green light came speeding towards him, aimed for his chest. He recognized the curse, knew he'd overstepped himself with his jeers and this was the result of his folly, briefly wondered about Harry—_damn it_! What had he just done!? Leaving poor Harry like that—and felt the second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest.

His vision tunneling, numbness traveling rapidly through his body from his extremities towards his chest; Sirius Black's body tumbled backwards through the Veil and disappeared.


	2. Dirt Nap

_**Mirror, Mirror**_  
**Dirt Nap**

Sirius hit his head hard on the ground as he fell and cringed briefly. The shock that he was still alive was more alarming than the pain. Apparently he'd misjudged Bellatrix's attack and had only been knocked off his feet by something other than the Killing Curse. Scrambling to his feet to get back in the battle, Sirius didn't have time to enjoy the relief of being alive. But then he stopped and blinked, stumbling backwards in his confusion.

_Where _**was**_ he?_

Swirling white mist surrounded him; a flat, blank plane was his floor; and the silence was so complete it was almost oppressive. He was completely alone. And he was completely naked.

_At least some clothes would be nice_, he thought; as he turned around, surveying this strange, confusing space he'd been transported to. Before he'd finished the thought though, the wish was granted. He looked down at himself in surprise; most of these weren't the clothes he'd been wearing five minutes ago: Denim jeans and torn-up sneakers, a Pink Floyd t-shirt and a black leather jacket. The only thing the same was his long, black cloak. This outfit was quintessentially something he would have worn when he was eighteen years old, right out of school.

Odd. Very odd.

In fact, he realized as he glanced down at the t-shirt, this _was_ something he wore when he was eighteen years old. For _that _stain, right there, was the _exact_ same stain that he'd gotten a few weeks after buying the shirt. (It was a blood stain, because James had snuck up behind him while he was trying to make a sandwich, the knife had slipped, and the cleanest thing nearby to wring his finger out with was the shirt. He'd guilt-tripped James up one side and down the other for that: Prongs had to make him sandwiches for a _month_.) So it stood to reason that the rest really were _his_ clothes.

How very, _very_ odd.

Sirius groped inside the jacket and was not surprised to find his wand tucked in an inner pocket. Armed now and more confident, despite the curious surroundings and rising fear that perhaps some enemy was just toying with him, he raised his wand in a defensive stance; nerves jangling, reflexes twitching.

"Hello?" He called gruffly into the mist. The sound was muted by the white clouds. He swallowed. It was like one big, silent presence just about to collapse on top of him. Sirius took a few steps forward and saw a dim, blurred shape. Upon further inspection, it was revealed to be a old, wooden park bench; complete with decades' worth of initials, swear words, and smiley faces carved into it. Sirius puzzled over the object for a second before another shape caught his eye. He edged closer to it, a hex waiting on the tip of his tongue in case it proved to be something more sinister than a scarred and graffitied bench. But instead it was something even more surprising. A swingset. A rusty, chain-link, gently-swaying swingset.

He had transported from the heat of a battle to being stark naked in a misty world of limbo. Clothes were wishable and his wand was almost immediately restored to him. And now this. A park bench and a swingset.

Just what in the _hell_ was going on!?

"Don't try to mess with me!" Sirius shouted. (If this was a trick, he would not be jumped with his guard down.) "—I'll shoot first and ask questions later!"

"Trigger happy much?" said a casual voice right behind him. Sirius whirled, wand at the ready, and had to check the motion to keep from Stunning the familiar person.

"..._Harry!?_" he gasped. "Damn it boy; don't sneak up on people like that!"

Harry bit his lip and looked apprehensively at Sirius. _I've got bad news_, said the look. Sirius tried to ignore the apprehension in his gut that accompanied the look.

"Where are we?" he asked. "What happened to the Ministry? Is everyone alright?" When the boy didn't respond, or even look him in the eyes, he prompted, "…_Harry?_"

"Well, see that right there is part of the problem," Harry said, running his fingers through his hair so that it stood up on end. Strange, that wasn't one of Harry's tics. In fact, it was a lot more like…Stupid. What a stupid thought. He needed to focus on relevant things in order to find out what was going on.

"What do you mean?" Sirius said, still not lowering his wand. Something was very off here.

"For starters, I'm not him…not Harry," said Not Harry, "it's _me_." Sirius' eyes widened. _No_, it couldn't be. Because that meant that…

He leaned forward and examined the other man's face. It was a trick of the light surely, because those eyes weren't green.

Not Harry pressed his lips into a dejected line and swiped the hair out his face. Sure enough, there was no scar etched into his forehead. The hazel eyes held remorse and sympathy as Sirius blinked in confusion, his arms now fallen limp against his sides, jaw gone slack.

"_Prongs_?" he said in small voice. The other man smiled weakly and shrugged in affirmation.

"It's great to see you again," he said, "…Just wish the circumstances were different."

Sirius checked behind him, half-expecting to see the other side of the Veil, so that he could just walk back through. But only more swirling mist was there. He swallowed hard and turned back to face his friend.

"James," he said slowly, "…Does this mean that I'm…." He didn't finish the sentence but waited anxiously for James' confirmation.

"…Dead." James finished gently.

"All dead?" Sirius insisted, putting his hands on James shoulders and staring him straight in the eyes.

"All dead."

"Kicked the bucket?"

James' eyebrows rose at the loose, offhand turn of phrase but he answered:

"Good and hard."

"Took the dirt nap and soon to be pushing up daisies?" The way he was talking about this was _far_ too cavalier.

"Suuuure…_Sirius_?" James said slowly, getting worried now.

"No more staying cooped up at Grimauld Place, hiding from Dementors, and worrying about the details for everyone else in the Order?" Sirius demanded. "No threat of Azkaban and pacing the house because I'm useless as a member?" James' confusion changed to a knowing smile and he nodded.

"You're free." He promised.

"Good and free?" Sirius' voice held an edge of desperation in it, not daring to hope against hope that this was all true.

"Good and free," James vowed. "C'mon. I'll take you back to the house. Everybody's waiting there."

Sirius nodded slowly, relief and acceptance in his eyes, perhaps even joy. Though if given a choice he would have wanted to live and fight, and stick around to help Harry out, he'd been growing weary for years now. Duty and hope had been all he lived on. But now?

He could finally take a break and be at rest, guilt free; catch up with some of his best friends, James and Lily, not to mention Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes, or the Prewett brothers. All the people from the old Order. _And_ Marlene McKinnon. Sirius grinned. _Especially_ Marlene McKinnon. It was high time he deserved a rest, right? High time he was rejoined with all his old friends.

Sirius slung his arms around James' neck in a bear hug and pounded his best friend on the back.

"_Screw_ the circumstances," he said, "It's _really_ great to see you again."

"Fourteen years is far too long," James agreed. "Missed ya, Pads. It's been really boring without you."

After a moment, they broke the hug and grinned at each other.

"Where are we, by the way?" James asked, making a vague gesture to their surroundings.

"How am I supposed to know?" Sirius scoffed. "...2104 There's-Really-_Nothing_-Here Drive?" James rolled his eyes as if Sirius was the one being stupid.

"So maybe it's not as furnished as it was in life, but you recognize this. Your subconscious chose it as your safe, familiar place."

Sirius glanced around again. The bench, the swingset...was that a carousel he saw off in the distance?

"The park..." he said slowly. "The one near my house. Used to sit out here and push five-year-olds on the swings when Mother was having a tear." James nodded.

"Makes sense. I wound up in the locker rooms outside the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts." He shrugged, as if to forget a bad memory, but quickly brightened. "Come on then," he said, slinging his arm behind Sirius' neck. "They'll be excited to see you."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered, smiling, "Me too."

And so James led the way back through the mist, both of them with an arm flung around the other's shoulder.

_Finally_.

Because Sirius Black definitely deserved a break.

_**Question**_: Do you guys want the next chapter to be the dead cast of characters watching the Battle of the Ministry and reacting to Harry's fight or do you want me to jump straight to the mirror bit? I don't want to not post anything new until I've gotten enough answers.


	3. Disappear

_Guys! The House of Hades cover art came out the other day! And Percy and Annabeth are dead center! Ahhhh! _:D

_Sorry this took so long, I had it written but my internet was out. :(_

_**Mirror, Mirror  
**_**Disappear**

Sirius blinked as the sound of their footsteps changed; looking down he noticed the white floor had changed to crumbling asphalt. A faded median ran down the middle of the lonely road, clumps of wilted, twisted grass grew in the pockets of the pavement. Ominous mist was still their only surrounding.

"James?" he said, a little nervously.

"Don't worry, it's just the outskirts; it gets better," replied his friend, who was starting to move faster.

"Why the rush?" Sirius asked as James took his arm off his shoulder in order to jog. Sunlight—or what looked a lot like sunlight, at least—was starting to burn though the fog. A few nickdots and buttercups joined the stray monkey grass the lined the road.

"Time is suspended in Reception," James said, "That's where we just came from—all the misty whiteness, invisible genies granting wishes, and whatnot—but here we're on Real World time. London, specifically; or at least our Area is. And we need to get home in order to know what's still going on back at the Ministry."

"But what _is_ 'here'?" Sirius huffed, as they were now running down the road as fast as they could. Just then, a small, plain signpost loomed into view on their left. Sirius hardly had time to read the words "_Welcome to Other World (UK Area): Magic now Usable_" before James' hand was around his wrist like a vice and they were Disapparating with a bang.

* * *

_**-Two Minutes Before- **_

'"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, "SIRIUS!"' Lily peeked between the cracks in her fingers and moaned in despair.

There was her son rushing _back_ onto the battle floor towards the damn Veil. Why!? What was going wrong _now_? What had she missed _again_ while she was, erm…hiding? (Excuse a mother for her anxiety at watching yet _another_ episode where her child was fighting tooth, wand, and claw for his life!)

"SIRIUS!" Harry shouted again. Lily froze as the pieces fit. She scanned the screen for the sight of tossing black hair and an overly-flashy dueling style. She couldn't spot him.

_ 'Oh no_.' She thought. 'Oh no no no no no _no_! Black, don't you _dare_!'

"James! Did that just happen!?" She cried. "Did Sirius…?" She trailed off as she glanced at her husband, sitting next to her on the sofa. In one hand, he had a busted stress ball slowly eking sawdust on to his trouser leg without him noticing and in his other white-knuckled fist, he gripped his wand tight. His expression was one of horror and disbelief as he watched the charmed television.

Tonight's Broadcast: the Battle of the Ministry. The very enemies that _they_ had lost their lives to against their son and all his friends (who they'd come to know as well as Harry had, during their checkups via the television). It was _more_ than unbelievably infuriating to watch this. To be helpless to intervene, useless to protect, invisible and silent to encourage. And the feeling only got worse with each encounter: whether battling trolls or full-grown wizards as an eleven year old, sparring with a two-ton basilisk, running for his life from a very real werewolf, or dueling against the newly-risen Dark Lord; they'd been through quite the series of emotional roller coasters in the course of Harry's "Chosen One" career.

But so far, he hadn't died, and that was certainly saying something. And neither, for that matter, had any of his friends. And neither, for that matter, had any of the Order.

Until now.

"N-no way," Dorcas Meadowes stammered. Lily glanced at her friend who was sitting in a chair closer to the TV. The blonde was chewing her nails with an unrivaled speed and the other hand was violently plucking a loose thread in the chair cushion. "No _way_ did Sirius just get it, not from _her_!"

"I'm afraid not, 'Cas," said a deep, measured voice from behind Lily's sofa. She didn't need to turn around to know it was James' father, Charlus Potter, who was probably pacing the length of the living room behind them. "That was definitely a Killing Curse. Sirius…he's on our side now."

Lily looked back at James, both of them trying—and failing—to tune out Harry's desperate pleas to Remus that Sirius simply be on the other side of the Veil. Of course, Sirius _was_ on the other side; but it was the side that Harry couldn't reach.

"Bring him back safe," she muttered. James nodded, and with a loud crack, he disappeared.

* * *

_Crash! _

James and Sirius lay sprawled in the back garden, both kicking one another as they tried to stand up again. Sirius groaned as he rolled off of a smashed glass pot.

"And just where'd you learn to Apparate?" he demanded as they stumbled onto their feet.

"Same place you did," James said shortly, his tone holding no apology as he strode across the lawn towards the house. "I haven't Side-Along-ed anyone in a while, and it would've been much easier if you didn't squirm the whole way." Sirius rolled his eyes but hurried after James, just as anxious to know what was happening in the Real World as his friend. But when he finally noticed the "house," he was distracted for a moment.

"You and Lily live _here_?" he asked, staring up at the sprawling, three-story mansion.

"Lily and I have an apartment, Dorcas and Fabian have one, Gideon's got his own room, and so does Marly." James replied as he drew his wand to tap a complicated rhythm on the doorknob. "Benjy Fenwick lives next door and my parents are across the street. Lily's parents are on cul-de-sac. But they're all here tonight."

"And the others? From the first war?"

James cursed as the lock glowed red and he began hastily re-tapping the erred combination.

"Emmeline Vance is probably at home. She's Mum and Dad's back door neighbor, you know how she and my father were such good friends in the Auror department. Then Edgar Bones is most likely with his family. They'll have put the kids to bed and are probably watching the events right now themselves. As terrible as it was when they were all murdered…it's kind of nice that they're still a family together on this side." A faint smile played around James' mouth before the door handle glowed red again. With a grunt of frustration he slowed down and began to carefully rap upon it.

"…Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon are near my parents." he continued. "Their house is a replica of the old one before it was burned down. And Cardoc Dearborn? He went missing—remember him? Still alive. Lucky bugger is a Muggle for all he knows. He was hit in the head, lost his wand, found by Muggle policemen, and declared an amnesiac at one of their hospitals. Finally fell in love, married the once-divorced Muggle woman, and now has two grown-up children. Quite happy, last I checked…_There we go!_"

The lock clicked open but James held up a hand.

"I know who you really want to see first," he said and Sirius' lips curled in grin. "But wait until the Battle's over to go find Marly. You'll have a long time after this to, er, catch up."

"_Find_ her?"

"She prefers to sleep through the fights, goes upstairs, curls up in a chair and waits it all out. I'm starting to think she's got the right idea. You'll understand in a moment. It's _nerve-wracking_ to watch." Sirius nodded and pushed the door open himself.

"I'll take your word for it. But right now, let's get in there and find out."

And the two men rushed inside.

* * *

_If anyone is confused about my Other World or Reception, please ask! I want to be clear with my writing. _

_Oh and yes, according to my headcanon, Sirius and Marlene were a kind-of-couple back in the original Order. More like friends with benefits actually. I'll give more details later on how that works out. _


	4. Despair

_This chapter will have lots of content that is purely Ms. Rowling's. I don't want to indicate it every time I use it, just for the sake of the story's flow, but just know that nothing recognizable is mine. And that goes for all the other chapters too. J. K. ROWLING IS THE COOLEST WRITER ALIVE!_

_**Mirror, Mirror**_  
**Despair**

Sirius took in the sight before him in less than two seconds.

There were ten people in the room, all with their faces away from James and Sirius, and all of their attentions glued to a television. Directly in front of them was Charlus Potter, James' dad and Sirius' surrogate father ever since his own family had kicked him out. The older wizard was pacing back and forth as he watched, his arms crossed tight and his shoulders hunched. Sirius didn't need to see his face to know that he was scowling.

In front of Charlus was a sofa and Sirius could only see a red-haired head sticking up over the edge. Lily. When this was over, it would be good to see her again too.

Perpendicular to Lilly's couch was another, it's back against the wall, on which two older people were sitting; tightly holding each other's hands. The woman was squeezing a pillow to her chest, her fingers clutching anxiously at the fringe around the edge. Sirius hadn't met them many times in life but he knew that it was Lily's parents, Camilla and Thomas Evans, killed for information they didn't have about their daughter's whereabouts.

Next to them in a chair was Dorea Potter, James' mother. Her head was turned away, but Sirius could see that she was wearing her lucky Quidditch scarf from when she was the Keeper for Gryffindor. The well-loved, well-frayed gold tassels on the end were tightly braided—a nervous tic of Dorea's.

Leaning against the opposite wall was Gideon Prewett. His brawny arms were crossed over his big, barrel chest, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Next to him was his identical twin, Fabian, whose hands were gripping the back of the chair in front of him. Sirius could only guess that the occupant of the chair was Fabian's girlfriend in life, Dorcas Meadowes. The occupant fidgeted and Sirius caught a glimpse of blonde hair. Yup, that was Cassie alright.

In the chair next to her was Benjy Fenwick. Usually merry, the thin old man was grimly twisting his wispy, white goatee. His pointed, purple wizard's hat, which he stubbornly refused to ever remove, was set askew on his wizened head.

"What'd we miss?" James asked loudly, vaulting the sofa to land next to his wife. Everyone jumped and briefly looked up, most of them giving Sirius a weak smile of greeting. He didn't mind. They could catch up later. He vaulted the couch as well and landed on Lily's other side. She leaned on his arm by way of 'hello' but didn't tear her eyes away from the screen.

Sirius directed his own attention to it.

The Longbottom boy was crawling towards Harry, who was being firmly held by Remus—good heavens, Remus looked _awful_—and it was a second before Sirius registered what he was hearing.

"'…Was dat man—was Sirius Black a—a friend of yours?" Neville asked, his tongue thickly swollen from some previous fight. An uncomfortable jolt hit Sirius as he really considered who he'd left behind, followed by a sinking feeling when Harry mutely nodded. The poor kid looked utterly miserable.

Remus started going on about finding the other teenagers and Neville was explaining what had happened to their group, but all that went straight over Sirius' head. He was concentrating on Moony now. Remus' hands were shaking almost imperceptibly and the strained voice he was using showed how hard he was trying to keep himself composed.

Sirius' concentration was so determined; he jumped when someone in the Battle shouted.

And then he cringed when he heard the words.

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" bellowed Harry. "SHE KILLED HIM—I'LL KILL HER TOO!"

He could only stare, horrified, as Harry took off running, wrenching himself out of Remus' grasp, heading after Bellatrix as she fled from the scene of her crime.

"_No!_" Sirius cried. "No; someone do _some_thing!" But as Harry sprinted past his friends, the other kids made no move to stop him and Harry drew closer and closer to the dangerous, powerful, mad murderess that was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Sirius rounded on Lily.

"How do you stand it?" he demanded. Her eyes were wide through the cracks in her fingers and she shook her head slowly.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I still don't know."

Harry had now reached the circular black hall of the Department of Mysteries and the walls began to spin around him. Bellatrix could be down any one of the many black doors. Sirius could only hope that his own murderer would escape and that Harry wouldn't find the right one.

But he hoped wrong.

"Where's the exit!?" Harry shouted desperately, turning on his heel glaring at the now stationary doors. "Where's the way out!?" A door flew open and Harry barreled off down its hallway, wand out and ready. He followed the sound of a lift's clatter, knowing it was Bellatrix, for who else could it be, and slid into his own, slamming his fist against the button that would take him to the Atrium. Harry leaned his forehead against the rattling, clattering wall, panting hard, and punched it once with frustration.

"Break down…break down…" James was muttering, willing the lift to keep his son safe, albeit beaten.

But with a soft, deceivingly pleasant ding, the golden grilles were open and Harry had careened out of them. Bellatrix, down at the other end of the cavernous room, rounded and fired off a spell in his direction, but Harry was too quick for her. He took cover behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren and swallowed hard as the spell shattered against the far wall.

By now Lily had completely hidden her face. James' shoulders were shaking uncontrollably.

"_Come out, come out, little Harry!_" Bellatrix called in her mock-baby voice. Sirius prickled. _How dare she taunt him!_ She was slowly sauntering around the Fountain, idly twirling her wand. "What did you come after me for then? I thought you were here to avenge my _dear_ cousin!"

"I am!" Harry shouted. Bellatrix only grinned harder, like a sick, deranged Cheshire Cat.

"I'm _fine_ Harry, get _out_ of there…" Sirius muttered.

"Awwwww….did you love him, little baby Potter?" Bellatrix crooned

"You're crossing lines, _bitch_…" Dorea said. Charlus snorted humorlessly.

Harry's nostrils flared and his eyes were narrowed dangerously: it was obvious his reaction was not going to be pretty. But as he flung himself out from behind the Fountain, he did something Sirius would have never, _ever _believed.

"CRUCIO!" Harry screamed.

The room in the Other World went silent for a beat as Bellatrix hit the ground.

"That was _completely_ called for," Fabian said quickly.

"You can't blame him," Gideon put in, looking back at James and Lily.

"I don't," James said quietly. "…And that's the worst part."

Bellatrix was already back on her feet, blasting back another curse and Harry dove behind the Fountain.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she cried. "You need to _mean_ them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain—to enjoy it—righteous anger won't hurt me for long—I'll show you how it's done, shall I? Give you a proper lesson—"

With a scream, a Cruciatus Curse was shot straight through the statues and a severed centaur's arm went spinning like a helicopter blade twenty feet away.

"Potter you can not win against me!" she shouted. She was waltzing her way around the Fountain and Harry, staying low, scuttled around on the other side, obviously looking for the best place to strike. "I am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete against—"

"_Now_, while she's monologuing," Charlus muttered, "Take the _damn shot!_"

"_Stupefy!_" Harry yelled. He'd edged around until he had a clear shot of her back and Sirius almost breathed a sigh of relief that the cat-and-mouse game was over, when she whirled around and put up a lightening-fast Shield Charm. Harry's Stunner bounced off her Shield, came boomeranging back in his direction, and took the ear off the golden goblin's statue.

"I'll give you one last chance, Potter!" shouted Bellatrix. "Give me the prophecy—roll it out towards me now—and I just _may_ spare your life!"

Sirius glanced away from the screen in aguish. He saw that Fabian had accidentally stopped squeezing the chair's back for support but was now pulling on his girlfriend's hair. Dorcas didn't even seem to notice.

"Well you're going to have to kill me then, because it's gone!" Harry roared. It was obvious how much he enjoyed saying that—anything to get under his opponent's skin. "And _he_ knows!" Harry continued, with a wild laugh. He was taking perhaps a little _too_ much entertainment in irking her. "Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone! He's not going to be too happy with you, _is_ he now?"

"What! What do you mean?" Bellatrix cried. Now there was fear in her voice, and the grim satisfaction on Harry's face confirmed that he too had noted it.

"The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort'll say about that, then?"

"What prophecy?" Sirius whispered.

"Tell you later," Lilly hissed back.

"LIAR!" Bellatrix shrieked. "YOU'VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME—ACCIO PROPHECY! _ACCIO PROPHECY!_"

Harry started laughing now, sounding like an escapee of insane asylum, as he poked his empty hands out into Bellatrix' view. A few of the people gathered around the television cringed at how deranged Harry himself was starting to sound. He was beginning to _look_ quite mad as well: his eyes were screwed up and tears streaked his dirty face.

"…_He's_ coming, isn't he James?" Lilly asked, her tone even more anxious now. James had to swallow a few times before responding.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice low and wavering, "Harry's eyes are streaming and he's making that face. It-it's the pain in the scar again."

"But does that mean that _he's_ coming?" Lily insisted, turning panicked, entreating eyes to her husband.

"_Nothing there!_" Harry shouted, interrupting any response James might have given. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said. You can go ahead and tell your boss that!"

"_James_," Lily insisted. "Tell me whether or not—!"

"No!" Bellatrix screamed. "It isn't true, you're lying—MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED—DO NOT PUNISH ME, PLEASE—"

"Don't waste your breath!" Harry yelled. "He can't hear you from here!"

"_James!_" Lily demanded.

"_Can't I, Potter?_" said a high, cold voice.

Lily hung her head in despair.


	5. Desperate

_**Mirror, Mirror**_  
**Desperate**

The room went silent in less than half a second.

Bated breath was held as a black plume of smoke materialized in the Atrium. Within the span of a heartbeat, the smoke had formed and solidified. A long, inky black cloak that trailed the ground gave way to a gaunt face, shrouded by hood, with two slit-like pupils glaring starkly in contrast to the scarlet eyes. Two sets of long, white fingers barely showed from the folds of the sleeves but one bony, white hand visibly clutched a skinny, black wand.

A wand now pointed directly at Harry's heart.

Dorcas let out a sudden squeak of fear (and also pain, since Fabian had accidentally just jerked on her hair with surprise rather hard.) Benjy jumped in his chair so hard that his purple, pointed wizard's hat toppled from his head to the floor, where it lay unnoticed. The popping of threads was heard as Dorea twisted so hard on her beloved, lucky Quidditch scarf that she actually tore a rip open. Charlus swore loudly and crudely and a resounding _thud_ followed as he slammed his head against the wall.

"_That's him!_" cried Daisy Evans, speaking for the first time since Sirius had arrived. "Thomas, that's _him_! Oh no, what can Harry do_ now!?_" She looked up guiltily the moment she said the hopeless words, not that everyone wasn't already thinking the same thing, but she obviously hadn't meant to say it out loud.

In response, as if Daisy's words of desperation affirmed his son's doom, James moaned with despair and buried his head in his arms, shaking his head slowly in denial.

But the worst reaction was Lily's. Tears, long-restrained, were pouring down her cheeks and her lips trembled violently, but she looked on with her chin held high and shoulders straight; as if it was her _own_ murder that she was trying to be brave for. The finality of the action seemed to seal Harry's fate.

Sirius could only stare, open-mouthed, in stunned, terrified silence as Voldemort continued.

"So you smashed my prophecy?" he said softly.

Sirius shivered despite himself. _That voice_… It was like nails on chalkboard.

"No, Bella, he is not lying….I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind….Months of preparation, moths of effort…and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again…."

"Damn straight," Gideon muttered. Dorcas shushed him. Now was not the time for jokes or dry comments.

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!" cried Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort's feet as he paced nearer. Sirius felt the slightest twinge of satisfaction that, even though he lost, at least their duel was costing her this much. "But Master," she continued to sob, "You should know—"

"Be quiet, Bella," Voldemort snapped. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master—he is here—he is below—"

Voldemort paid no attention.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," he said quietly, examining his outstretched wand with a bored expression before locking eyes with Harry. Hate instantly burned with the red; immobile, mute fear shone from within the green.

"Please," Lily whispered, her voice hitching. "Not Harry, _please_ not Harry…Have mercy…"

"You have irked me far too often, for far too long," Voldemort continued.

Sirius' eyes raked the television for _any_ other assets, _any_ other Order members, _any_ of Harry's friends, any _miracles_ perhaps hiding in the edge of the screen. But he found none.

James finally unfolded his doubled-over body to see the action, reached over, and took Lily's hand. His eyes were red-rimmed and he bit his lips to keep them from quivering. She was shaking her head in disbelief, her cheeks wet and her wide gaze unblinking, and one of her knees was bouncing in terrified, nervous expectation.

"But _this_ will be the last time," said Voldemort, staring down his wand at the boy. "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

"_NO!_" Lily screamed, shooting to her feet.

James squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally running down his face.


	6. Dumbledore

_**Mirror, Mirror  
**_**Dumbledore**

_Crash! _

Sirius didn't dare open his eyes. He couldn't bear the idea of seeing his god son lying spread-eagled on the floor like a broken doll. Couldn't bear the idea of seeing Voldemort's victorious sneer or Bellatrix's smug joy. Couldn't bear to see one of them pluck Harry's wand from his limp fingers or step on his still, pale face. Couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it: so he didn't _dare _open his eyes…

_Clang!_

The metallic noise was unexpected and Sirius almost glanced up. A change of events? An avenging? A different duel spilling into the Atrium? But each scenario would result in seeing Harry—_fifteen years old: a bloody __child__,_ _Harry_—who was so strong, so brave, so clever, had so many friends and so much promise, dea…

"_YYYYYYES!_" Someone shrieked. It was a beat before Sirius realized it was someone in the room. Someone who was cheering _for_ Harry.

At that point, what choice did he have but to open his eyes?

And what a strange, unexpected, _wonderful_ sight it was.

The headless statue of the golden wizard was no longer in the fountain. No, instead it was standing on the ground in front of Voldemort with its arms outstretched; the polished wood floor cracked and splintered around its feet where it had apparently leapt down off its plinth.

But most importantly, most amazingly, most miraculously: _there was Harry!_ Standing on his own power, wand in hand, shielded by the golden form standing between him and Voldemort, blinking in surprise at his own survival like all the other people in Other World.

Sirius tore his wondering eyes away from the screen in order to take in Lily and James' reactions. Lily's jaw had dropped and her entire frame was trembling as her flabbergasted expression began to curl up into a smile; a large, teary, red-in-the-face, beautiful smile. But James still had his eyes shut, hands firmly clapped over his ears, and was grinding his face into his knees.

"_James!_" Sirius shouted happily, shoving his friend, albeit a little over-exuberantly. "James, _look_! He's alright! ...James, _look_, dammit!" The other man's head shot up, surprise and skepticism grafted into all of his features. His brow cleared when he saw his son, still up on his feet, and no sooner had jaw gone slack than Lily collapsed back onto the sofa and kissed him once full on the mouth.

"_HAHA!_" she sang, when she pulled back "He's alright! _He's alright!_"

"_Shhh_!" hissed Dorcas, though her expression was clearly relieved, "It's not over yet!"

"What—?" Voldemort had just said, his eyes darting around, demanding to know the source of Harry's golden, impromptu rescuer.

And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"

The ten followed Harry's and Voldemort's gaze to see Professor Dumbledore, his wand drawn and his blue eyes flashing impressively, standing at the golden gates.

And then there was the flash of more spells.

Voldemort had engaged the Headmaster into a duel with another Killing Curse, (A few people gasped and leaned forwards) but as Dumbledore Disapparated away from the spot, the spell crashed harmlessly into the gates. (They all sat back in their chairs and sighed.) The Headmaster appeared behind Voldemort and with a whip of his wand; the other injured statues sprang into life.

The witch's statue sprinted towards Bellatrix, useless curses pinging and shattering against her golden chest, before tackling the Dark Lord's Second-in Command to the floor, wrestling her wand out of her hand, and pinning her to the ground. Sirius thought he heard the statue even snarl at its victim.

The goblin and the house-elf disappeared in the direction of the fireplaces, and the centaur galloped towards Voldemort, waving his severed arm over his head like a club. But as the insulted limb sliced through the air, it met only emptiness where the Dark Lord's head had just been; Voldemort had vanished and appeared on the other side of the pool.

The wizard's statue thrust Harry away from the fight and curved its body backwards around the boy, like a protective cage. However, that wasn't enough for Lily.

"What are you _doing_, Dumbledore!?" she cried, "Get him out of there _now_!" James patted her hands distractedly.

"He's a little preoccupied at the moment darling, give him a second."

Voldemort sent off another Killing Curse which missed Dumbledore, hit the security guard's desk, and promptly set it on fire. Dumbledore flicked his wand once in response and an orange stream of light rocketed towards his adversary, causing Voldemort to conjure up a silver shield in order to deflect the curse.

"All he's got to do is Apparate next to Harry and Side-Along him back to the school," Lily insisted, shooting to her feet again and pointing a condemning finger in her old Headmaster's direction. "But he's too bent on beating…_him_ to worry about a fifteen year old's safety"

"Voldemort," Sirius corrected automatically, without looking at her. "Call him by his name, Lily."

The redhead, though she didn't flinch at the sound of the word, ignored him.

"Lily," James said, pulling her back on to the couch. "Don't forget that if he can beat Voldemort tonight, then it's all over." Hope was evident in James' tone, and his eager smile showed just how badly he wanted his words to be proven true.

But Lily sat back down and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the screen.

"Don't be a fool," she snapped bitterly, "It's _never_ that easy."

* * *

_I want to thank all the followers for helping me reach I goal I never thought I'd get to: over 100 followers! I truly thought it was impossible. Thank you guys so much and I hope you're all having as much fun reading as I am writing. Don't forget to review!_

_Here's to hoping every one of you is having a great day,_  
_~Freddie._


	7. Misery

Sorry this took a while guys, stuff came up. Super-special props go to sazzi for pointing out how Lily's "Don't be a fool…it's _never_ that easy," sounded like something Severus would say. *stage-whisper*_ I did that on purpose_. I think those two probably picked up more traits from each other than fanfiction gives them credit for, though Snape was the tails side to her heads. Question is: who picked what up from whom? Anyway, next chapter:

* * *

_**Mirror, Mirror  
**_**Misery**

Voldemort glanced up from behind his silver shield, red eyes glinting in the light of the raging inferno that had once been the security guard's desk.

"So you do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" he called, as the Headmaster did not take the offensive in the fight. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, strolling up the hall as though he had not a fear in the world. At this point, Sirius had to agree with Lily. How hard would it be to appear next to Harry and swish away to safety!? Hang trying to defeat Voldemort, he wanted his godson _safe_!

"Come on, Dumbledore; save the kid," he muttered. "This is too dangerous."

"…Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit—" Dumbledore continued casually. Sirius could notice stalling when he heard it; how many times had he used the same tactics on Dumbledore himself when he was in school? He could only hope that didn't mean the Headmaster was already out of tricks…

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort.

"At least _we_'re alright with it," James muttered. Lily swatted him in the arm for interrupting. But Sirius understood what Prongs meant. There was something very satisfying about having already faced and come to terms with the one fear of Lord Voldemort.

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore lightly, still closing in upon his foe. In the corner of the screen, Sirius saw Harry squirming against his protector, but the statue resolutely held the boy away from the fight. Sirius couldn't help but feel a great surge of gratitude for the headless wizard.

"…Indeed, Tom," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "Your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness."

Enraged, Voldemort shot another jet of green light towards the unconcerned, unrelenting Headmaster. Sirius didn't even bother worrying on behalf of the older man; and sure enough, the one-armed centaur, still brandishing his own limb as his weapon of choice, galloped forward and took the blast, shattering into a hundred pieces as the curse hit him squarely in the chest.

But before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had his wand drawn and was circling it over his head like a lasso. A glowing, purple chord flew from the tip, knotting back on itself as it went. The lasso landed around Voldemort, shield and all, and dragged him forward till he stumbled a few steps.

Hope blossomed in Sirius' chest for a moment. Was Lily wrong? Was it really just that easy? Was the danger over almost as soon as it had begun? Because surely Dumbledore was just about to deliver the final, epic blow…

But that hope shriveled and died as quickly as it had grown, for then the lasso became serpent: a long, thick, slithering rope of pure muscle and venom; which at once let go of Voldemort and turned to face Dumbledore, its body coiling up and its neck arched, poised to strike—

The next action happened too fast to track it all. Suddenly Voldemort had vanished, the snake lunged, a Killing Curse flashed somewhere and—of all things—a phoenix bird suddenly appeared in order to swallow up the deathly green jet of light. When Sirius located Voldemort again, he was now standing on the fountain, from which he had obviously just shot the _Avada Kedavra_ at Dumbledore's back, but was enveloped in a rippling cocoon of water, drowning where he stood.

"Drowning…?" Dorea said, sounding surprised. "That's…a slow way to go."

"It's _fitting_," Charlus corrected, gruffly. "Let's just hope it works." Sirius actually wanted it to be with a Killing Curse: that way they could see the light leave the monster's eyes, but at this rate his preference was nullified by his extreme desire to just see it _done_. Now if only this could work…

But then with a crash; the water fell back to the dais, splashing messily all over the floor so that puddles formed in divots made from the fight's various explosions. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.

Silence in the room. Shock, triumph, or fearful expectancy showed on all the faces of the dead.

Harry drew their attention next as he began struggling against the statue again. His expression was exhausted and grim but there was a definite look of relief in his eyes too. Beginning to think that the fight was truly over now: no major injuries, no casualties (well accept him of course, but Sirius didn't regard that as a terrible problem) Sirius started to smile and was about to offer jubilant high-fives to all gathered when Dumbledore bellowed:

"_No Harry!_ Stay where you are!" It wasn't a passive sentence, showing that Dumbledore was not yet off his guard; but what made the smile freeze on Sirius' face and the raised hand slowly fall back to side was the fear in the powerful old wizard's voice.

"But it's _over_…isn't it?" Thomas Evans said, sounding confused. "Why would he…?"

But then a scream interrupted him.

Ten pairs of horrified eyes turned in unison to see Harry dropping to the ground to curl up in a fetal position; his hands weakly clawing at his forehead, his eyes streaming and screwed up against the pain, and an inhuman, bloodcurdling scream issuing from his mouth as he twitched on the floor.

"No, _Harry!_" James cried his voice strangled, looking as though he was in as much pain as his child, as the boy rolled onto his back and began to twitch all the more violently. Lily made a strained noise in her throat and began to cry again; helpless, desolate tears that wrenched the heart. Unable to comprehend such pain and feeling suddenly detached from the horrifying situation, Sirius did the only sensible thing he could think of by putting an arm around Lily's shoulders and squeezing her tightly.

"His scar…" Dorcas murmured. "Oh that _damn_ _scar_!"

"_Kill me now, Dumbledore…_" said a voice. It was a rough and hissy voice, and though it wasn't Harry's, _it was coming from Harry's mouth_.

Lily moaned as she doubled over, pressing her knees into her eyes, sobbing something about "possessed little boy…" into her lap. Sirius felt the hair stand up all down his back. Possessed? _Harry_? _Oh please_! _Any_thing but that.

"_If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…_" Harry's mouth said. His body was still twitching, his face covered in a shiny film of sweat, his eyes now wide open and glassy. With a pang of sheer terror, Sirius noticed that they had a distinctly red tinge to them.

Dumbledore, for his part, was now kneeling beside Harry, trying to grab hold of the teenager's hands as they clenched and unclenched, waving in a berserk manner over his face as though to claw at an enemy's face. Not once did he make any move to go for his wand, to end Harry's life. Sirius knew without even thinking, that Dumbledore didn't consider killing the boy as an option.

But briefly, Sirius wondered if it might be kinder to end Harry's misery instead.

* * *

Two more chapters and we'll reach the mirror. Sorry it's taken so long to get through this but I didn't see any way around it and this _is_ what popular demand asked for. Review please! Don't be a freeloader, it's not like you're paying for this. *wink, wink*


	8. Merriment

If you're curious, I've gone back and almost doubled Chapter 2: Dirt Nap since I published it first.

* * *

**Mirror, Mirror  
**_**Merriment**_

Sirius was truly starting to entertain the pleasure of Stunning himself in order to avoid seeing this monstrosity take place. Or even better, Stunning poor Lily and James. But then after that, himself of course.

When Harry starting convulsing so hard that he rolled over onto his stomach, Sirius drew the line. He couldn't take it anymore. He had pulled his wand and was aiming for James' side when somebody joyfully screamed: "HA-_HA!_"

Sirius glanced away for a second from his would-be quarry and almost lost control of himself. A vacuum of sound seemed to form around his body and he could not hear the sounds of celebration around him. His peripheral vision faded out so that he was only focused on the screen; thus had no recognition of the hugs, kisses, applause, or hat-tosses going on. He had only ears and eyes for his godson.

Harry wasn't convulsing anymore. Harry wasn't screaming anymore. Harry wasn't begging Dumbledore to kill him anymore. Harry was just shivering and sweating a little. And now he was fumbling for his glasses, now adjusting them on his nose, now picking his head up, now speaking in a low voice to the headmaster, now nodding his head.

"Are you alright, Harry?" said the older man.

"Yes…Yeah I'm—I'm fine."

And then the sound around him returned in a rush: laughing, squealing, whoops, shouts. Lily flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, giggling as though drunk, her face still wet with tears. James, who had disappeared from the couch in the two seconds Sirius wasn't watching after him, was heard running around in he room behind them, whooping and hollering like a madman. A few distinct crashes (Merlin, had he pushed over an entire table of china!?) were heard followed by a muttered, "Reparo," and more whoops. Charlus was sagging over the edge of the couch, and Dorea had rushed to his side and hug him (and also to probably keep him from collapsing on the spot). Thomas and Daisy looked shell-shocked. Gideon and Fabian had chest-bumped and now were punching each other in the arm in congratulatory manor, laughing so loudly it may well have been shouting. Benjy, who seemed shocked with himself for throwing his beloved hat into the air and letting it hit the ground, was now dusting it off and cradling it in his arms. But he definitely looked thrilled. Dorcas had moved from her chair and was standing in front of the television with a remote in hand, punching buttons with a vengeance.

"Where is Voldemort?" Sirius heard her ask it. "Tune to Voldemort."

The screen flashed to show a dark parlor, lit only by a burning oil lamp sitting on a decorative table; scowling, aristocratic figures stared sternly out of frames in the paintings lining the walls. Two people were in the entrance, one of them lying on the ground clutching at her chest as though in pain. Nevertheless, she did not fail to look up at the other figure, her shining eyes catching the light from the oil lamp and exuberantly coo:

"Oh _thank you_, my lord! I will make this up to you. You will never regret rescuing me. This has been the last time, _I swear_. I do not deserve…"

"Begone from me Bella—_you simpering weakling!_" Voldemort shouted, banishing her with a wave of his arm. Without another word, she scampered away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The moment she was gone, Voldemort began moving towards the table just a few feet away but stumbled, falling forwards so he could lean against the tabletop. He hunched over it and wheezed; one long, white, trembling hand reaching towards his breast as though there could possibly still be a heart in there.

Sirius was shocked. Was _that_ Voldemort!? Voldemort—_tired_ after a battle? Exhausted? Damaged even?

Incredible!

_Fantastic!_

"He's back at the Death Eater Headquarters!" Dorcas shouted, beginning to hop up and down with excitement. "He's fled the Ministry back to Malfoy Manor. That's a surrender! We won!_ We've won!_"

For a moment, Sirius considered the phrase: "We won! _We've won!_" Dorcas had been dead sixteen and a half years and she still identified herself as part of the "we" like she was also an active member of the Order. Sixteen and a half years, ever since she died in that battle…Sirius shuddered. No use thinking about it now. But he remembered it so clearly…

She'd died exactly two weeks to the day that Fabian and Gideon had been ambushed. Ever since (specifically) Fabian had been killed, she became a shadow of her former self and grew very sloppy in her fighting. They'd only let her go into battle because they were short on fighters that night, what with Lily and Alice both pregnant and Caradoc Dearborn sick. Her body had flown past him during the fight, missing his arm by less than a meter. Afterwards, they'd speculated if she'd gotten herself killed on purpose in order to be with Fabian again. Though Sirius had personally never believed the rumors, looking at the two of them now; as Fabian planted a happy, triumphant kiss on her nose, just for her to grin and kiss him full on the lips; he wondered if they may have been true.

"Great, great, he's at the Headquarters" Lily said impatiently, bringing Sirius back from his thoughts. "Go back to the Ministry. What's going on with my son?"

"Tune to Harry Potter," Dorcas clearly told the remote and the screen flashed back to show the Atrium.

"What are all these people doing here?" Charlus asked, surprised. Indeed the Atrium was now quickly filling up with wizards and witches and the emerald green fireplaces had lit up the room as more continued to arrive.

"I know, I know Williamson," said a surprised and frustrated voice, "I saw him too. Merlin's beard! It _was_ him—You-Know-Who—here in the Ministry of Magic! It didn't seem possible—my word—how can this be?" Sirius looked on with slight disgust at the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who was surveying the damage around him as if such a gruesome scene might make him vomit. And this was just the _after_math of the battle. Sirius snorted derisively. _Lily-livered git._

Dumbledore intercepted the bumbling fool, despite a few workers who had the nerve to actually _raise_ their wands against the old sorcerer, and he proceeded to explain the whereabouts of the rest of the Death Eaters left down below where a bunch of teenagers had done a better job of fighting dark wizards than the whole of the Ministry put together. Sirius tuned out the dialogue going on between them and focused on Harry. He'd laid his head back on the ground and was resting his cheek there, his eyes closed serenely. But when he opened them again and took in the unchanged sight around him, his expression fell back into misery and resignation.

Heaving himself to his feet, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, Harry straightened and glanced around, only for Fudge to pounce on him.

"Harry—_Harry Potter?_" Fudge cried, "He-here? Why—what's all this about?"

"_Idiot_," James snorted derisively, suddenly very close to Sirius' ear. He jumped and glared at his friend, who just playfully elbowed him in the face. "Fudge is the one who's made me angriest this whole time. Made life hell for Harry with the papers and he's putting the entire country at risk with his ignorance. But Dolores Umbridge is a very close second."

"Leave it James," Lily said dismissively, "No need to get on your political soapbox, you don't have an interested audience."

"Lily-Sweetest," James said drily, "Stop encouraging me or it'll all go to my head."

A wide grin spread across Sirius' face. With the tension diffused, this was just like old times; with all of them gathered in the living room, scattered about on the various couches and chairs, insulting each other, cracking jokes… The only things missing were Remus curled up on a sofa, reading, Mad-Eye thumping around, grumbling about all the younger members' manners; or Frank and Alice playing cards (while Fabian or Gideon helped Frank cheat behind Alice's back). With a rush of extreme fondness for all of them, Sirius hadn't realized how much he'd missed his friends until now.

"Will you two shut up," Gideon hissed, before James and Lily could launch into another infamous bout of their play-arguing. "They're still talking in case you hadn't noticed."

"I shall explain everything when Harry is back at school." Dumbledore said calmly. He casually turned his back on the still-sputtering Minister and picked up the golden wizard's head. Tapping it thrice with his wand, he muttered, "Portus," and the head glowed blue, trembling in his hand for a moment, before it became still again.

"Now see here, Dumbledore!" said Fudge, "You haven't got the authorization for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister of Magic, you—you—"

"_Riiiiight_, because you just _exude_ power and intimidation." James said dramatically, "Merlin forbid you unleash your_ terrible wrath_…"

"Soapbox, James," Lily sang. "…You're doing it again."

Dumbledore silenced Fudge with a single look.

"You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts," Dumbledore said magisterially, "You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures professor so that he can return to work.

"When I was an Auror, if you didn't agree with how the Ministry was utilizing your skills, you resigned." Charlus grumbled, "They have no honor or decency these days. Hunting down Rubeus like that…"

"So _he's_ allowed to get on a soapbox but I'm not?" James asked his wife. She sniffed.

"Yes. I lent him yours. You weren't using it properly and didn't deserve the thing."

"Hey—!"

"_Guys…_" Gideon groaned.

"I will give you…half an hour of my time tonight," Dumbledore said, checking his timepiece. "With that, I do think we'll be more than able to cover the important points of what happened here tonight. After that, I shall return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the Headmaster will find me.

Fudge's looked as though they were about to pop and his mouth hung open like a codfish.

"I—you—"

Dumbledore turned his back to him again to face the still-trembling teenage boy.

"Here Harry," he said, his tone much softer, "Take this Portkey; it will send you to my office. I'll see you there in half an hour, alright? …One…two…three…"

Harry nodded mutely and Dumbledore removed his hands from the golden wizard's head. With a swish of color and a slight roaring noise, Harry and Portkey disappeared.

Back to Hogwarts.

Back to safety.

Everyone heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"…Well then," said Dorcas, after a moment of silence. "I think that's enough for tonight. …We all know poor Harry's going to be feeling, well, bloody awful by now." She glanced at Sirius, not in an accusatory manner, but he felt bad nonetheless for being the one who had died.

"Dumbledore's going to try talking him into acceptance, "Dorcas continued. "It won't be pretty, and I don't think we're obliged to watch that, are we?" She sounded like she dreaded seeing Harry in such a bad state and was looking for an excuse to avoid it.

"Actually," Charlus said wearily, "Dumbledore will probably try to explain the Prophecy by now. It's about time Harry knew and we know he's been planning it for years."

"What's—?" Sirius began to ask.

"No, he wouldn't," Dorea insisted. "All this _and_ the prophecy in one night? That's too much, _way_ too much, for any fifteen year old to handle."

"Prophecy—?"

"At this rate, they just need to get it all out on the table." Lily said with a sigh, "Harry'll make it. It will be difficult to absorb it all but he's strong. It'll just take a time to adjust." She sighed again and plopped back down on the sofa. "James, I guess we're still on duty. Least we can do is suffer through this with him…The rest of you can go on to bed, this is our job now." A few people nodded, now looking very sleepy, and headed towards a stairway that led upwards.

"Why—?"

"Yeah…" James muttered, joining his wife on the couch, "Parents' business, don't worry about it too much…But Dorcas is right, this won't be pretty," he added to Lily

"Hey!" Sirius cried, crossing his arms, "Does someone want to explain what's going on? What prophecy? What won't be pretty? Is Harry in trouble?"

"He's always in trouble," James huffed, "But this is very complicated and Dumbledore will be the best at explaining it—We can record it for you so you can get filled in in the morning."

"If my godson's still in trouble I want to know about it firsthand," Sirius said, annoyed, and he flopped down next to James.

"Alright then," said James, leaning back with the remote in hand. Then, a smile began ghosting around the corners of his mouth. "It's just that fifteen years is a long time—but I guess that seeing Marly again can wait just a _few_ more hours."

Sirius froze for a split second before he shot to his feet.

"Directions?" He demanded.

"Up the stairs, down the hall, last door on the left," Lily said, smiling. "But Sirius…during the time that James and I have been, well, _here_; we've seen you come to those, uh, _realizations_ about her…" She smiled knowingly and Sirius knew she was two words from busting out with a coquettish "_Awwwwww…_" He just raised an impatient eyebrow as if to say, "_Get to the point!_"

"What she wants to ask is, 'this time it's for keeps,' right?" James said. "You and her—it's not just a fling to you anymore?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, failing to repress another happy grin.

"Ah Prongs," he said, "If only you knew."

And then, with a hasty, "Thanks!" thrown over his shoulder, Sirius had disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

A/N: Is anybody interested in how the rest of the people in Other World died? I thought the bit about Dorcas may have been a bit awkward to the flow, but I was in an experimental mood and if you liked it, I can try to fit more in about the others. Or if you didn't like it, please tell me that too.

I liked writing the moment where Bellatrix and Voldemort returned to Malfoy Manor right after Voldmort realized that sharing Harry's mind was more painful to him than it was to Harry. Is anyone interested in a one-shot where I continue that moment?

Yes, Sirius and Marlene will be explained in the next chapter. (_If you're nice to me…_)

And I also want to say a humongo "_Thank you!_" to everyone following: we've reached 200, guys! _Thanks. A. Billion! _


	9. Marlene

Okay, bonus chapter for all y'all who want to know about Sirius and Marlene. I'm out of town and I'll need my Potter books as reference guides so this is nothing really new-It's actually from my story Stories from Beyond the Veil Which I wrote awhile ago. So excuse the change of writing style, like I said, I like experimenting. Next chapter: I _pinky promise_ it will be the mirror! Marauder's Honor, I swear!

* * *

_**Mirror, Mirror**_  
**Marlene**

_We move like cagey tigers, we couldn't get closer than this  
__The way we walk, the way we talk, the way we stalk, the way we kiss  
__We slip through the streets while everyone sleeps  
__Getting bigger and sleeker and wider and brighter  
__We bite and scratch and scream all night  
__Let's go and throw all the songs we know  
__Into the sea, you and me  
__All these years and no one heard  
__I'll show you in spring, it's a treacherous thing  
__I miss you, hiss at you,  
__The love cats!_

xxxxxxx

Sirius approached her softly, thinking that if his heart could still beat, it would be jumping around in his throat right now. Because there she was—Marlene McKinnon—curled up in an armchair chair with a blanket falling off her shoulders, fast asleep. James had told him that she hated watching the living world when things got tense. So she'd hidden up here to sleep away the anxiety of seeing a battle unfold, helpless to intervene. The Battle of the Ministry, they were calling it. Casualties: One, him of course. It was a stupid death, a careless one: killed by his own mad cousin and his body magic-ed away.

But no matter, so long as this wasn't some elaborate dream and he was _really_ about wake up Marley—_his_ _Marley!_—then could he really be blamed for being excited? Relieved? Joyful to be finally at rest and rejoined with two of his best friends, James and Lily; all those who had died in the previous war who as good as family to him, as well as the sleeping figure he neared?

_Mind back at task, Black._

Right, right. Well then, what _was_ he planning to do? Shake her shoulders gently? Call her name out? Put his hands over her eyes and yell boo? Sirius came to a pause, ten feet away from her.

He hadn't seen her since that last night when they'd all gathered together at the Order's headquarters and Lily had put on the Muggle music that she'd gotten them all into. That was the night Sirius had promised Marley the last dance. That was the night, just as he was walking over with two butterbeers and was about to start the conversation with her, that a Partonus arrived, saying that her home was being attacked. They'd raced to the McKinnon's. (She lived in the basement at her parents' home because once she'd graduated from school, a year before he did; she's been too wrapped up in Order business to find her own place. And most nights she just stayed at Headquarters where it was safer like all the younger members. ) But when the team arrived, the house was already a raging inferno and, strategically placed, Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon's damaged bodies were lying in heap on the front lawn.

Needless to say that headstrong, fearless, easily-angered Marlene pursued the devils that destroyed her family.

And then, two weeks after the incident, the Order found her—or, what was left of her at least—dumped at the sight of the Death Eater's next attack on a Muggle village. He never expected how much it would tear him apart, or how hard it was recover from grief. That was ten months since he'd joined the Order, nearly three years before the war would end; before everything would get progressively worse for him.

For it was during those _long_ years in Azkaban that he'd _finally_ figured out how much she meant to him. That was one of his best thoughts to hold on to, the memory of them being young, stupid, and happy together, their heads so far up in their dumb arses they would never have realized they were meant for each other. Of course, it was the one the Dementors had tried the hardest to…he shook his head. Nah, it was best not to think about it. Suffice to say it had been fifteen long, _long_ years.

So Sirius, just as he decided on the "boo!" idea, started forward and, inevitably, the floor squeaked.

And his breath hitched when she turned to look at him.

It was Marley alright. Long, tangled, chestnut curls, full pink lips, and the odd way she leaned backwards but kept her spine straight and rested her chin on her chest. And those flashing blue eyes that were usually narrowed in sarcasm, eyebrows that had so often arched into her "_damn straight_…" face. But now her eyebrows were raised into her hairline out of surprise and her jaw had gone slack.

"_You_…" she breathed. Sirius smiled and decided on a completely different idea: Bring back their old inside joke.

"Marry," he said, "I have done thy heart a grievous wound, prithee forgive me or I shall punish my back a thousand days." Her eyes widened as her ears confirmed it was him and her bottom lip trembled a little.

"Dost thy brow lighten to learn I suffered every heart beat I was away?" he asked softly.

Marlene swallowed once and (this was the part that he in_exorably_ loved about her) she picked right up with it, despite the shock, despite probably being out of practice, and despite fifteen years of separation.

"And that would be what?" said she, "Prithee tell, good sir and don't delay about it. I won't have you going about this cryptic nonsense." Sirius felt his chest wrench at the sound of her voice but he leaned coolly against the wall, dropped the Shakespearian tongue, and said in a low voice,

"I didn't give you that last dance."

In an instant she was in his arms, her face buried against his neck, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, body pressing into his for stability and that awful, raw need. Sirius could only respond in kind.

"Hey Marls," he muttered into her hair.

"I missed you so much," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. It was obvious she was trying to keep from sobbing—although the need to say that was in itself nigh on ludicrous—but it had been a _long_ fifteen years and even the strongest have their weak points.

"You too," he muttered again, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist and shoulders. He once used Ye Olde English to pick up girls but when it came to his own language his vocabulary was considerably lacking. Why couldn't he tell her all that he'd thought about her during his time in prison!? They were all grown up now—it shouldn't be a problem!

(It was when he'd first tried the olde, artful way of speaking on Marley, when she'd responded back flawlessly without a delay, that the gag between them had been born. That was when he knew this girl wasn't one-night-stand material and better than a pick-up line. She was better than that because she was a girl that didn't give her heart away and understood that he (at the time of course, _damn it_ why hadn't he figured this out sooner?!) didn't want it. She thought on her feet, had a wonderfully large appetite, could hold her liquor, enjoyed a practical joke, and (best of all) had a beautiful appreciation for motorcycles. They had had an easy, flirty, friends-with-benefits relationship that somehow made perfect sense. She was tricky, but still easy for him to understand—easier than any other woman actually. James always said it was just because she was just the female version of him but he'd come to realize it was something more special than that.)

"You just had to get reckless on Travers' ass didn't you?" he said after a moment. (He'd been really angry—beyond livid was a more fitting phrase, actually—when they had found her body. Angry at Voldemort, angry at the Death Eaters, angry at himself, but mostly angry with her for flying off in the first place; and _damn it_ she needed to know that, because that was the way he cared.) Marley, per usual, didn't miss a beat.

"Reckless? Like you can say otherwise about yourself, _fugitive_," she huffed affectionately. He had to nod: he'd brought that one on himself. It wasn't the first time she'd effortlessly one-upped him.

"True," he said, pushing her away slightly to examine her face. She looked him square in the eyes and her lips started twitching out of…humor? maybe regret? maybe the fear of a sudden flashback? He couldn't always read her; she still had her mysteries, but that only made being with her more worthwhile. Like spending time on a puzzle. He rubbed his thumb over her temple.

(Why hadn't he been able to protect her? Why hadn't he saved this smile, this quirky glare, the shifty eyes, and the joke that lived on the tip of her tongue? He could've spent _years_ with her—_decades_. He _should _have. He'd seen her racing to grab the nearest Death Eater's cloak at that battle, seen that livid look in her eyes. Furious, heart-broken, and full of hate for the men who had just murdered her parents. Regardless of how much she may deserve her vengeance, he knew she was going to get herself killed. _Merlin, no_; passed through his mind as he went after her to keep her from following them. (It never occurred to him to Stun her or Bind her. She would've hated him for months, maybe even years, but she would've been _alive_. And imagine how different things would have been.) But he wasn't able to stop her from Disapparating with them. Fifteen years he'd been kicking himself over that mistake. But at least she'd been comfortable the whole time, right?)

"How've you been?" he asked, really meaning it, really wanting to know that she'd been happy. The blue eyes narrowed in familiar sarcasm, her lips quirked up with amusement, the cock of her head was derision.

"I'm _dead_, Sirius."

_Duh, Black_.

"Beyond that?" he replied jovially. What he really wanted to know was along the lines of: "_When the hell did this become a casual conversation!?_" He _needed_ this woman. Needed to assure himself that he remembered her correctly. Feel her. Hold her. Kiss her. Have her. Have her like he did before the Order became a scary place where people said good-bye for the night like they were prepared it would be the _real_ good bye. And where members would pulled inside by many arms and met with many relieved faces to know they had all survived the night. A place where everyone in the room would jump at small noises. And where certain seats were left empty out respect for the dead (Marley's was four down to his left and everyday he would tip it forwards like she was still there and he was still trying to dump her out of her seat).

That was why she had been so important during the first war. Because she reminded him that there was still fun and excitement in the middle of depression. And because even _then_ he'd had a very vague idea that this was going to last longer than any war. So when she died, he hadn't known what to do with himself or what to do with the plans he hadn't even made for the two of them. So the real question was: what was he waiting for _now_!?

"I've been alright," she replied.

_Take your opening, Black!_

"Not _great_?" He asked. Marlene saw his motive in zero-point-two seconds.

"Not _great_, per say," she said, her eyes drifting down to his lips and up again.

_Fifteen years, Black!_

"Let me fix that for you."

He pulled her tighter to him, her head arched up to close the remaining distance, and their mouths met. Almost instantly, Sirius pushed her roughly against the wall and Marlene groaned slightly, clutching her fingers into his hair. She bit his bottom lip as he slid his hand up her shirt to her lower back, and she brought her ankle around his, wrapping their legs together. His mouth went down her neck, feverish kisses going with it and she groaned again, the grip in his hair tightening.

Perhaps five, perhaps five hundred, minutes later, Marlene pulled back, gasping for breath, her smile wide and eyes half-lidded. Sirius leaned in to nibble beneath her ear.

"But there's one more wound I must atone for, milady," he said, his voice coming out rough and heavy.

"What's that?" she asked, still panting and he could hear the expectant smile in her voice. Sirius brought his nose along her jaw line and kissed her lips once more before rolling his forehead against hers.

"I never told you how much I love you," he whispered.

xxxxxxxxxx

_We're so wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully pretty!  
__You know that I'd do anything for you  
__We should have each other to tea, huh?  
__We should have each other with cream  
__Then curl up by the fire and sleep for awhile  
__It's the grooviest thing, it's the perfect dream  
__Hand in hand is the only way to land  
__And always the right way round  
__Not broken in pieces like hated little meeces  
Life doesn't get as grand as this!__  
__You don't know how I love you, but let's go. Oh, solid gone!  
__Aw, we're just the lovecats!_

* * *

The poem used is actually an arrangement of one of my favorite songs called The Lovecats, by The Cure. Check it out on Youtube, it's _amazing_!


	10. Milkshakes

Sorry it's been so long, but since you were so patient I wrote you one super long (for my starndards at least) chapter! Nearly six whole pages guys! I was out of town on a mission trip and let me tell you, it was the. Most. Incredible. Experience. _Ever_. If you've never gone on one, I _highly_ recommend it. You will learn things about others, yourselves, and God that you _never_ dreamed were possible. Hope y'all enjoy; please review!

Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM! WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

_**Mirror, Mirror  
**__Milkshakes_

"...So gimme a second to get this straight," Sirius said, laughing incredulously, as he held up a hand. "You two," he indicated Dorcas and Fabian, "got _married!?_"

They were gathered in the living room again. It was still morning—around ten-thirty—and it had been nearly two weeks since Sirius had arrived in Other World. The television was finally off. It had come to forcing themselves not to look after Harry all day: poor kid was a right _mess_ after what had happened in the Ministry and the subsequent knowledge bomb Dumbledore had dropped on him about the prophecy. Everyone felt obliged to at least go through the ordeal with the kid, but Charlus insisted that the younger crowd take some time off. After all, there wasn't much they could do from their end, so there was little sense in agonizing over the living world every second of the day.

Despite everyone's intentions to listen to the older Potter's advice, their actions had still made it necessary for Charlus to steal their remote and charm the television's control panel not to work. He stopped over in the evenings and passed the remote off but he took it back with him after everyone had seen Harry off to bed. Thus, they could pass their mornings guilt-free, in the knowledge that they were doing all they could, without punishing themselves by constantly watching the boy's despondency.

Currently, Sirius was kicked back on the sofa against the wall and Dorcas was sitting in the middle of the floor on a bean-bag chair, facing him. Fabian had thrown a pillow against her knees and was lying parallel to Sirius' couch, absorbed in a sketchbook. Lily was on the other couch: legs crossed, book in lap, and feet enveloped in her signature, lumpy, over-sized socks. Tinkerings and beepings came from the direction of the adjacent kitchen where James and Gideon were laboring over some special treat like a pair of housewives. Sirius, of course, kept this simile to himself, as he was hoping to receive said special treat. Marlene was upstairs, sleeping in late.

Dorcas nodded proudly, thrusting her hand forward so that Sirius could see the diamond ring. Fabian looked up from his sketch—a little bird in a bird bath—and grinned

"Posthumous marriage," she said, smiling, "We decided we wanted to make it good and official, get it down in writing. Happened about three months after I had...y'know…" she shrugged, speaking of her death of course. Sirius had picked up on that over the past two weeks. Even those who had come to terms with their death rarely spoke of the actual event.

"Except of course," called James from the kitchen, "That the definition of posthumous means that one person is still alive…" Dorcas rolled her eyes.

"No one asked your opinion, Jimbo," she called.

"Don't call me that," James said irritably, and Sirius mouthed the familiar words along with him, learned after years of experience, drawing a few smiles from the assembled audience.

"But what I can't get over," Sirius continued, "Is that no one thought to tell me until _now_ that these two buggers had tied the knot! Am I not due that knowledge?"

"Of course sweet pea," said a new voice, "But we still thought it would be much more interesting to place bets on how long it actually took you to notice the ring." Sirius grinned, as always, as Marlene waltzed into the living room and pecked him on the cheek. "...Lily, this means you owe me a Sickle. And Gideon, I'll collect on those eight Knuts."

His smile wore away as that sunk in.

"You called bets on my observance skills?" He sputtered, and Marly nodded sweetly. "James!" He cried, "Surely you weren't involved in this?"

"'_Course_ not!" Came the exuberant reply from the kitchen, followed by a stage whisper of, "...that'll be two Sickles Lily." Marlene laughed at Sirius' hurt expression and kissed his cheek again before she joined James and Gideon in the kitchen.

"Looks good boys," she said and they heard the clink of glasses. Sirius perked up as James walked in, carrying two tall cups.

"In honor of Cassie's love of fruit and Lily's obsession with ice cream," he announced grandly, "we're having our daily milkshake: today its berries and vanilla."

Lily rolled her eyes but accepted the drink as James plopped down next to her on the sofa. Gideon followed with three glasses levitating in front of him and passed them to his brother and sister-in-law before joining them on the floor. Marlene was last and she glared at Sirius until he made from for her in the couch before she laid down next to him, curled up at his side, and gave him his milkshake.

They slurped contentedly for a moment before Sirius heaved a dramatic, satisfied sigh and said, "Guys...this is perfect."

"Cheers," toasted Gideon.

"Cheers," everyone else agreed emphatically.

Sirius noted a particularly happy smile growing on Lily's face. She glanced over at Fabian and Dorcas and crinkled her nose in delight before looking right at Sirius. Catching his confused stare, she dropped her gaze and smiled mysteriously into her milkshake.

"What?" Sirius said frankly. She just shrugged aloofly.

"Oh nothing," she said, taking a casual sip. "Just...a little thought." James locked eyes with Sirius, both nodded, and her husband slipped the milkshake out of Lily's hands and held it aloft.

"Spill," he demanded dramatically. "Spill or you'll never see the yummy-delicious-goodness again!" Lily made a few feeble attempts at taking back the glass but James' arms were too long for her reach.

"Why pick on me!?" she cried, as Sirius started chuckling. "Can I not just put two and two together without having to share the answer with everyone!?"

"If you're going to get cute and cryptic about it, then yes, yes you must share," said James.

Lily huffed. "Well, it's just that…we _are_ on the subject of weddings…" Apparently, this was not the reaction Lily hoped for, for her expression grew indignant when everyone just blinked at her.

"Oh _come_ now!" she said. "Must I spell it out for you? Dorcas and Fabian got married. Which _means_…"

More blinking.

Lily sighed resignedly and said, "Oh fine, I'll spill. The only thing that could make all this more perfect…would be _another_ wedding..." Everyone froze, most of them in mid-bite, as Lily's premonition finally clicked into place. As one, the room turned to stare at Sirius and Marlene.

Sirius blinked.

"_Honestly_," Lily continued. "We _all_ knew it was going to happen, we just thought we'd all be alive for it. But now we're here and lots of time has passed and it's not like these two have never made quick decisions. It just so happens that this would be a _right_, quick decision. We all knew _that_ within a _week_ of joining the Order together." She sat back with a happy smile and surveyed the shocked expressions around her with mild confusion.

Through her little speech, Sirius continued to blink. Wedding? He, Sirius Black, get _married_? Of course, in the past few years he'd vaguely thought about it, but there had only ever been one girl for him. He glanced down at that one girl, still ignorantly sucking on a milkshake already half-gone. Hadn't he dreamed about spending their lives together? Hadn't he fantasized about growing old together? But if those two, happy, ideal endings couldn't occur...didn't they still deserve to be dead together? Didn't they still deserve to get married?

"Marls," he said tentatively, nudging her. "What do you think?" She surfaced from her ice cream reverie and glanced up to see everyone still staring at them.

"Wait," she said suspiciously, "She meant the two of _us_!? A wedding..." She trailed off and looked up at Sirius, who nodded encouragingly. She hesitated for a split-second before setting her milkshake down and grabbing his wrist.

"Come here," she said grimly, standing and dragging him towards the door. Sirius tumbled off the sofa and miraculously onto his feet; he caught Lily's guilty face just before he was outside and the door had slammed behind him. Marlene had her arms folded and was biting her lip. She rocked back and forth on her toes and stared at him. He was still trying so hard to process her change of mood and how quickly this had escalated that it was a moment before Sirius realized this action meant that he was supposed to speak.

"Er..." he said. She rolled her eyes and bit her lip harder. If Sirius didn't know any better, he'd say that Marlene didn't know how to handle this. Which was impossible because Marlene _always_ knew how to handle things.

Just then, there was a slight noise from within the house, one Sirius wouldn't have heard if he wasn't already listening for it; it sounded like a small crash and a muffled cry of indignation, followed by a sharp hiss for silence. He glanced back at the nearest window and saw a flash of red hair duck back behind the drapes. He rolled his eyes. Every word he and Marlene were saying was probably being charmed and picked by those inside.

However, a very pointed throat-clearing brought his attention back to the girl across from him, who, if she looked any more annoyed, might have steam coming out of her ears.

"_Well_?" she said, sounding _very_ irritated. (Her foot was starting to tap, which made clear thinking _so _much easier for Sirius.)

"Well...?" Sirius replied, hoping for a hint at how he was supposed to navigate these uncharted waters. Was she about to start laughing and say, "_Honestly_ Black! Gullible much!?" or was she seriously considering Lily's idea? However, the expression on her face—biting lips, wouldn't meet his eyes, how sheepishly hunched over she was—he'd say she was...scared. Or, at least very, _very_ nervous.

"Well what do you think?" she said. There were walls up around her, he could tell, and her eyebrows were quirked up as if fearing an answer she knew she'd receive.

"I think Lily enjoys playing Matchmaker too much," he said honestly. Marlene nodded and forced a laugh, though she still didn't meet his eyes. Perhaps he was reading in between the lines too much, but Sirius had discovered even more about the puzzle that was Marlene McKinnon over the past fourteen days. Taking the chance that she really was scared and insecure about this, which was a slim chance but all the signs were there, he took a step closer to her and lifted her chin.

"But I also think Lily's very _good_ at playing Matchmaker," he said softly. "I think that a lot of what she just said in there is true. I think that it could happen between us...what do _you_ think?" She opened her mouth, closed it, and stepped away from him so that his hand fell back to his side.

"I want to _talk_," she said.

"We _are_ talking," Sirius said, instantly regretting his words: She glared at him furiously.

"I mean without touching," she said, "Without cute gestures, without pretending, without, you know, _use of that olde tongue which maketh all conversations fair_. No flirting. No influencing. Just talk."

"Just talk," Sirius echoed.

"The truth." She specified.

"You know the truth." He promised. She uncrossed her arms and ran her fingers through her messy hair.

"Sirius..." she said, sounding tired, "You said...that same night that you came home—_here!_ dammit, I meant _here—_the night you came_ here..._after you woke me up..."

"...I said that I love you Marly," he said, angling his own head to catch her eyes, "I meant that darling, you know..."

"No I don't!" she cried taking another angry step away from him. "I _don't_ know that Sirius! You said all that after we had already slipped right back into the—the _flirting_, and the _kissing_, and the..."

"That doesn't make it any less true!" Sirius said. "Do you have _any_ idea—" he took a step forward, ducked his head and finally caught her eyes, "—how much I missed you? _Any_ idea how much I thought about you? ...Marly..." he put his hands on her shoulders and she didn't take a step back like before. He almost sighed with relief as he continued.

"...You were one of the few happy memories that I wanted to-to _keep_. During—" he swallowed and her expression changed to show that she had filled in the blank. Sirius supposed there had been a meeting called where everyone agreed to never bring up _those_ years. All he had to do was trail off, everyone would nod, and the subject would quickly be changed. But this time he wanted to address all the issues on the table, no matter how painful.

"...During those years in Azkaban." He forced out. Her jaw dropped and she began to speak but he pressed on her shoulders and silenced her with a look. "Thinking of you kept me sane," he said. "And no matter how hard they tried—no Dementor could ever take that way!" Her bottom lip trembled and she may have started blinking faster than usual but Sirius pressed his point.

"And when I say I was thinking of you, I don't mean our, uh, late nights...I mean making faces at McGonagall's back every time she turned around during mission briefing. Or sneaking into Remus' room and stealing his not-so-secret chocolate stash. Or banging on pots to wake the others up in the mornings, two hours early. Or slinking out of headquarters at night when we were supposed to be on lockdown just to go feed ducks at the park..."

"Or to go roller skating," she murmured, a slight smile growing on her face. "Or out for midnight ice cream."

"_Exactly_," Sirius said emphatically, "I told I loved you and I wasn't bluffing Marls. I meant that. And I still do. This," he took her hand, "is _not_ a fling. And in all honesty, it never was." He chuckled before he continued, "Truly, how many people just 'on a whirl' go out for midnight ice cream?" She giggled and he squeezed her hand. "See? ...We were just too scared to accept the truth of the matter."

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his.

"I'm ready now if you are."

"Admit it then," Sirius challenged, still grinning, "I don't remember you responding anything in kind that night...Go on then, say it."

She batted her eyelashes and rose on her tiptoes until their mouths were just barely ghosting over each other, her breath on his lips making his hair stand up.

"Sirius," she whispered, and her lips lightly, _tantalizingly_, moved over his when she spoke. "_I love you._"


	11. Marriage Proposals

I know! This is not what you wanted to read! Trust me! I got it. But a lot of people said the last chapter flowed badly and I'm sure many more agreed but were too shy to say anything. (By the way, never be afraid to criticize me, just explain where you coming from and I will put it at the top of my priority list to fix whatever the thing that needs fixing is and will soon fix it so that you will be satisfied with the fixing of the fixable thing.) Anyway, to those who said, "hey, basically Lily forced them into getting married, everybody was OOC compared to what's been established so far and the pacing was terrible," thank you for your honesty, go back, reread chapter ten and then come here. Honestly, this beginning doesn't make any sense at all without the last chapter.

Oh yeah, and CHAPTER TWELVE, "MIRROR" IS ALL WRITTEN UP. AS IN, WE REACH THE PART THAT THE WHOLE STORY IS ABOUT WHERE HARRY GETS TO TALK TO THESE PEOPLE! (And it's kinda long too!) I will upload that tomorrow morning if I can. Reviews can make it happen by this afternoon though…

Sorry this update took so long but this thing called school started up and I don't have time to read, shave my legs, or sleep, much less write. (Guys, I don't even have time to check out new Vlogbrothers videos. _What is my life coming to I ask you!?_) Thank you for your patience, but please understand that updates will be, unfortunately, significantly slowing down. I know; I hate it too. Kill my teachers if you're that upset about it. Okay, end of rant.

_**Mirror, Mirror**_

_Marriage Proposals_

Instantly, Sirius had picked her up and swung her around as she laughed wildly. He pecked her lips once when he finally set her down and she beamed at him.

"In that case then," he said, pulling away so that he could see her whole face. "I need to apologize for something…" Her eyebrows quirked up in confusion.

"I don't have a ring," he said. She immediately started glowing.

"I don't give a damn," she replied in the same tone of voice.

Sirius glanced back at the window to make sure his friends were watching this. Lily didn't bother hiding this time, though a hand from within the sashes was swatting at her to duck behind the curtains again. He grinned and directed his attention back to the woman across from him.

"If I don't have a ring, I'm going to try to make this as official as possible," he said, kneeling as he said so. She bit her lip and smiled only brighter.

"Marlene McKinnon," he said, taking her hand, "I should've done this years ago. And when that didn't work out, I should certainly have done it two weeks back..." A sudden thought occurred to him and he switched into their Shakespearian dialect. Even if she classified this as "flirting," it was still their thing, one of their characteristics as a couple.

"...So if only ye were to grace me with thy presence," he said, "And promise such a heavenly delight from now till all eternity, I would surely be the luckiest soul to ever have lived." He paused and took in the sight if her: beautiful and smiling and happy and amazing and the sunlight hitting her just so and he said the words, "Will you marry me?"

She grinned, and it almost looked like a triumphant smirk when she did so, leaned forward slowly...and tackled him backwards, kissing him soundly on the lips.

"Yes," she said, "_Merlin_, yes!"

* * *

"A posthumous marriage!" James crowed happily, "I call being best man!" Sirius and Marlene had just come in and announced the engagement, even though everyone inside had already been celebrating it (though they all amusingly tried and failed to quickly school their faces back into neutrality upon the couple's entrance.) Sirius chuckled as James clapped him on the back and pulled him into a manly hug.

"What if I choose Gideon for best man?" Sirius said.

"Then there will be problems in your future," James replied amicably.

Lily came forward next and hugged Marlene, both of their faces happily flushed. When she embraced Sirius she muttered in his ear, "I knew you had it in you." Dorcas looked remarkably coquettish as she observed the new engagees and Fabian seemed a bit befuddled at the sudden turn of events, though certainly proud. Gideon alone looked shell-shocked, which was possibly the closest to what Sirius felt. Hugs and kisses were being given to all; not to mention handshakes so hard Sirius thought his arm might fall off. It was perhaps ten minutes of this until Lily suddenly shouted,

"Wait! We have to tell the McKinnons!"

_Oops_, thought Sirius, _Should've asked their permission_. He may have bucked the Black family ideals, but he still had an unshakable sense of general traditions.

Marly seemed to read his mind because she laid a hand on his arm.

"They've always loved you," she said simply.

"What about my parents?" James interrupted, "Sirius is as much their kid as I am!"

"I got it!" Lily shouted, already at the door, "I'll bring them all over!"

"No, no!" Marly cried, "I want to tell my parents! I'm coming with you!" She dashed over to join Lily before turning back to Sirius. "Do you mind?" She asked.

"Go right ahead, love," he told her. She smiled and then the two women were gone.

After a second, James clapped him on the back again, bringing Sirius around to face him.

"May I take this moment to point out that you made fun of me when I got married?"

"Darling, I have no idea what you're talking about." Sirius said, batting his eyelashes innocently enough.

"I recall you saying I was a lovesick sellout, trading my freedom for a scary lioness."

Sirius pretended to consider it for a moment before he shrugged. "Rings no bells."

"Padfoot...!"

"Sirius."

He turned, thinking that Gideon or Fabian had just said his name but...the voice had not been nearly deep enough.

"...That rings no bells?" James continued doggedly, "You started telling Lily so many false stories about who and how many girlfriends I'd had and long tales of 'late-night broom cupboards'..."

"Wait, wait; James, I think I heard something." Sirius said, flapping his hand at his friend.

"Sirius Black?"

"There it is again!" Sirius turned on the spot. "Who is that?"

"Not me mate," chorused the Prewett twins. Sirius turned back to James who raised his hands in innocence and also glanced around for the source of the noise.

"Sirius Black!" Cried the voice, sounding angry now. James lifted a finger to point at Sirius' side.

"Pads..." he said doubtfully, as though his sanity was also in question as well as the source of the mysterious voice. "Is that your..._pocket_ talking to you?"

Sirius glanced down at his cloak. That _did_ seem to be the origin of sound.

"I dunno," he said, also doubtful, "but it does kind of sound like..." it had occurred to him how much the voice sounded like Harry's and yet that was quite ludicrous because...Sirius froze. His fingers, groping curiously into his pocket, had just found something small and square, with sharp edges. And he identified it by touch immediately.

"_No way_," he breathed, suddenly fumbling furiously to get the item out into the open as fast as he could. "It couldn't have been there the whole time..." He finally wrenched it out and held the square up to his face, jaw-dropped, eyes bugging out, and stared at the different but equally surprised face on the other side.

"Sirius?" Croaked the boy.

"Harry!" Cried Sirius.

* * *

_~Five minute prior~_

Harry slumped down onto the mattress and leaned his head against the bedpost. He really didn't feel like packing, although lately he hadn't felt like doing much of anything. On the other hand, packing his trunk up was a better idea than going down to the end-of-term feast, where non-discreet whispers and unconcealed stares would break out like wildfire the moment he entered.

Very soon, he would be able to return to Privet Drive, where there would be no pitying looks or falsely sympathetic pouts. Perhaps the other students had genuine motives for empathy, motives for the obliged affection that called for forced understanding, but in the end, it was impossible for any of them to understand what he felt. Merlin, even _he_ didn't understand how he felt right now. All he knew was that he faced negative attention and gossiping the moment he went in for the feast.

And that was the _last_ thing Harry wanted right now.

So he sighed, reached for his trunk, and began rummaging through it; thinking how strange it was that for the first time, he was actually looking _forward_ to going back to the Dursleys.

As he absent-mindedly pushed through crumpled robes, Harry was surprised when his fingers suddenly found something hard. He'd thought it was just old laundry down here. Vaguely curious, he pulled the object out and found it to be a badly-wrapped package.

He knew what this was, and his heart seized momentarily upon the realization. Sirius himself had given this to him just inside the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

_Use it if you need me, all right?_ He'd said; his voice earnest and his eyes entreating.

Feeling as though life couldn't get any worse than this cold cliché of a final, unopened gift and yet still slightly thankful that he had this extra connection to his godfather, Harry sank back down onto his bed and unwrapped the package. A small, square mirror tumbled out and nearly hit the floor but his instant, Seeker reflexes automatically snapped it up before it could shatter. Upon further examination, he found it was just as it seemed; a little, grimy mirror. But on the reverse side was a hastily-scribbled note from his godfather.

'_This is a two-way mirror. I've got the other. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them in separate detentions_.'

And Harry's heart began to race…He was going to be able to talk to Sirius again, right _here_, right _now_ in his dorm, he just _knew_ it—

He glanced around to make sure there was nobody else there but the dormitory was quite empty. He looked back at the mirror, raised it in front of his face with trembling hands, steeled himself with a deep breath, and said, loudly and clearly, "Sirius."

He waited. The mirror fogged from his breath he held it so closely, but nothing else appeared in the glass' surface.

A small part of his heart shriveled. He'd gotten his hopes up. Yet again, he'd gotten his fruitless hopes up and this was the price he always paid…

_No_. Harry adamantly corrected himself. _No, this is __**going**__ to work_.

"Sirius Black?" He said, a bit tentatively, terrified that there would be no response and that he had reached another lonely, dead end. He waited (perhaps the mirror took a while to get through, right?) but it was only his own eyes that stared back at him. Even he had to admit that his expression was pathetically dependent. He could just hear, as he had so often heard these past couple weeks, what Bellatrix Lestrange would say if she saw him in this condition, or even Voldemort himself.

_Worthless…Feeble…Gullible…__**Weak! **__Look at the so-called hero. Poor baby thought that __**love**__ was the answer, __**love**__ made everything better. Well __**here**__ is what happens to those who __**love**__…_

Despair seized him and he angrily shook the mirror, drawing his wand to rap it smartly across the surface.

"Sirius Black!" He shouted angrily.

Again, the mist of his breath clouded over the glass and he rubbed it away, anxiously and forced-faithfully expecting to see his godfather staring back at him; laughing because _oops_, he'd made a terrible mistake but luckily enough, they'd found a way around it and now here he was _so there!_ And yet Harry was dreading the moment when he would invariably be let down.

However, something slightly strange was starting to happen: the mirror stayed clouded. In fact the mist trapped within was beginning to froth. It churned more and more turbulently, and now there was the silhouette of a head appearing though the swirling fog. Harry's mouth hung open and his fingers began to violently tremble as the face in the mirror sharpened to distinctly show…

"Sirius…?" He croaked.

"Harry!" Cried his godfather.

* * *

_Aaaaaaaaaaand_….scene. Welcome home to Cliffhanger Hotel, where you'll be enjoying your stay for however long _I want you to! Bwahahahaha!_

If you're interested, I added on to the end of Chapter 3: Disappear. I forgot to mention where the older McKinnons were during the past few chapters, as well as a couple others from the old Order so if you're confused, head that way.

Thanks to SkittlesGal and FamousNoOne for helping me out with this one! You guys are surely made of rainbows, glitter, leprechauns, and Nuttella! Seriously though, your help meant a _ton_ to me and I'm very thankful to know I've got you as editing buddies.


	12. Mirror

Ten thousand hugs to puppykiller9 (which is a hysterical name, by the way. I died laughing when I got that email) for being the _350__th__ follower_! Because I know there are all these awesome viewers could we get some more _re_views? Just a _few_ more? _Please?_ (Perk: I will most likely respond. And then you will discover what a delightful person I am to chat with.)

Anyway, here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for, all six pages of it: _Mirror_.

* * *

_**Mirror, Mirror  
**__Mirror_

_Harry's mouth hung open and his fingers began to violently tremble as the face in the mirror sharpened to distinctly show…_

_"Sirius…?" He croaked._

_ "Harry!" Cried his godfather._

Harry slowly pivoted his body so that he was no longer holding the fragile mirror over the hard floor. His fingers were shaking so badly, he didn't trust himself to not let it fall. He carefully deposited the mirror onto the bed, all the time never breaking eye contact with the other man.

"Is it you?" Harry said at last, his voice still rough. In this moment of dethatched shock, a, surprisingly logical, thought had just wormed its way through his subconscious to the forefront of his mind. "Because Mr. Weasley says to never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain…"

"N-n-no, it's me—I swear," Sirius stammered. The look on his face seemed to match the sense of stunned amazement Harry was feeling. "…Your godfather, Sirius Black." Both of them were now recovering from their surprise and the coherent parts of their brains were beginning to work. Well, Sirius more than Harry. The older man was giving the standard confirmation answers that proved he was, indeed, who he claimed to be.

("Padfoot…?" said a small voice that neither of them noticed.) Sirius was already continuing.

"…I gave this mirror to you in the front parlor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place the day you were returning to school…" he said, "We met for the first time in the Shrieking Shack where you immediately almost broke my nose…" He trailed off with a nostalgic chuckle.

Harry nodded slowly. This seemed to be no trick. This mirror seemed to _really_ work. This seemed to be _really_ Sirius Black speaking to him. Harry's insides started to rapidly warm up and the terrible weight in his stomach was hastily dwindling.

("_Pads?_" Harry briefly thought he heard, but Sirius didn't react, so the teen forgot as soon as he recognized.)

"Sirius…?" Harry said again, starting to smile—the first real, warm, genuine smile in a fortnight. What _was_ this sunny feeling? Happiness, perhaps? _Joy_, even? He'd quite given up on those emotions in the past two weeks, resigning himself to the unshakable gloom for at least the next few months.

His godfather winked at him, looking outwardly cool and cavalier, though his eyes, filled with emotion, gave him away. "That's me, kiddo." But then, as though he'd just thought of something, his expression changed to one of complete earnestness, "Harry, look," he said urgently, "I am _so_ sorry about what happened. I should've been paying better attention. I should've tried harder.…"

"Don't worry about it!" Harry was going to say, laughing, because wasn't the whole situation quite hilarious now? Here he'd been moping about—"doom, despair, and agony on me"—when the key to closure had been sitting, unopened, in his trunk the _whole time_. At least, he _would_ have laughed at that, if it wasn't for the loud interruption on Sirius' end.

"_Padfoot_!" Cried a voice, "Listen to me, _damn you_, is that what I_ think it is!?_" Thumps and crashes followed; Sirius glanced away and his eyebrows raised as though the speaker had just introduced even _more_ wonderful news before his expression changed to one of alarm and the mirror's view began to pitch about wildly.

"Geroffme— " came Sirius' disgruntled voice, "_Yes_, it's one of the old mirrors—_ow!_ _Careful_ you idiot, you'll break it!"

"Merlin, James; was throwing the sofa onto its' side necessary!?" said another, deeper, voice.

Harry's heart stopped for a moment. James. That voice had definitely just said James. Did that mean that …? The mirror's view pitched some more before it came to rest on another face.

For a split-second, Harry feared that the mirror had reverted to its' original state as the familiar, dark-haired, thin-faced, speckle-wearing image appeared: both mouths dropped open, both eyes wide. But Harry quickly realized that it was not _his_ face in the glass.

It was his father's.

James Potter.

His.

Father.

The feeling of numb shock filled his chest again. The last time he had seen his father was in the graveyard of Little Hangleton, specters of souls long since deceased haunting the space around them, while he was locked in a duel with the most evil wizard to have lived in centuries. Understandably, there hadn't been much time for catching up just then.

Then again, he _had_ seen his father since that incident. In Severus Snape's worst memory. That hadn't been a proud moment when he witnessed James bullying a younger version of Snape, but he had been assured by both Remus and Sirius how that phase was soon grown out of, repented from, and eventually regretted, relieving and restoring Harry's pride in being a Potter.

He'd dreamed of meeting his father for as long as he could remember—huddled up in a cupboard and drawing pictures of three, rough, sketchy stick figures holding hands: his family as he imagined it—hoping that one day, some long-forgotten relative would rescue him from the Dursleys or perhaps that even his real parents would walk right through the door, claiming that they'd both suffered from amnesia ever since that "fatal car crash" but had regained their memories now and wanted their little boy back.

And yet now, with this direct line connecting them; Harry had _no_ idea what to talk about, what to ask, what to joke, what to tell. And apparently, neither did James.

"Dad," Harry finally choked. "I…I never thought…I always wanted…" He licked his lips and chuckled nervously. "I-I don't know what to say."

"I know," said James, "Neither do I….Oh, we're making a terrible mess of this, aren't we?" Harry laughed again, but this time there was more warm humor than awkward disbelief.

"Should we start at the beginning?" Harry said. James nodded excessively.

"Yes, perfect idea," he said. "I'm James. I'm your dad. And Harry, you have _no idea_ how proud of you I am."

And suddenly the ice seemed to break.

"We've watched you grow up this whole time. We were there for _every_thing; _always_ pulling for you," James gushed. "Your mother and I—she's out, but she'll be coming back any second now—are so _incredibly_ _proud_ of you son. The things you've done, the way you've handled responsibility, the young man you've become, your friends, your morals, your abilities— like _Quidditch_!" James swooned for a second and Harry couldn't help but grin. "It's _embarrassingly _humbling really. Unbelievable how good you are—that's raw talent right there."

"Oh, of _course_ you would talk about Quidditch," said a woman's amused voice on James' end. "Honestly boys, it's just a game."

"No it's not," said Harry and James instantly. They froze and stared at each other before each began to laugh—loudly and hysterically. People had compared him to his father before but Harry decided that everything leading up to this moment was an understatement. Two minutes and they were already speaking _in sync?_

"Cassie, you don't know what you just did," said the deeper voice that had spoken before.

"Who else is there with you?" Harry said in between guffaws. James wiped a few tears away.

"Well there's me—_hi_. Then Cassie—our dear-friend-turned-acquaintance after that little comment she just made on the most noble sport in the world."

"Hey!" She cried, just as James panned the mirror around to show her. She was a young, petite woman; very pretty; with blonde, bob-short hair; and large brown eyes.

"Hi Harry!" she said, waving merrily. "Dorcas Meadowes, but you can call me Cassie. I'm friends— ("TURNED ACQUAINTANCE!" hollered James from off screen. Harry snickered) —with your parents." She continued, giving James a withering glance. "I was with them in the Old Order."

"The Old Order," scoffed the deep voice Harry had heard before. "Cassie, you make us sound like an ancient band of warriors."

"Well naturally, we belong with the likes of the Fellowship of the Ring," joked Dorcas. The view quickly swung back around to James who said in an indignant voice,

"To be clear, _I_ petitioned that we originally be the Fellowship of the Phoenix, which has a better ring to it anyway, but according to _some_ people ("_Lily_," Sirius coughed in the background,) _that_ title was too pretentious."

"Self-assertive much?" Harry said, surprising himself that he was getting so bold. James seemed to notice this but instead of commenting, he just grinned and kept the joke rolling.

"It would have sounded cool!" James protested. "We would have totally had a better name than the Death Eaters."

"Right, because _that_'s what the competition was all about," said Dorcas.

"Credit where credit is due, they have a cool name," James said, raising a hand in innocence.

"You are impossible."

James rolled his eyes in her direction but grinned at his son.

"Fifty percent of our time is spent arguing with each other and the other half we worry about you. Which means, especially with the work-out we get when it comes to fretting about your adventures, we'd have some world-class Olympic teams if arguing and worrying were sports."

"…And if we were alive," Sirius put in.

"Shove off Padfoot," James threw back. Harry laughed again.

Something occurred to him just then that this was what life would have been like if Voldemort had never come to power. This sort of scene would probably have occurred on a late night, in a living room, a fire roaring, a pet on somebody's lap, and mugs of tea being passed out; just he and his family and their friends, relaxed and happy to be with one another. But unlike all the other times when Harry would try to imagine his life had it been normal, there were no feelings of anger, nostalgia, or longing. Just a warm feeling the spread from his chest all the way out to his fingers.

"Then there's the Prewett brothers; Fabian's on the left, Gideon the right," said James, drawing back Harry's attention; the boy gave himself a shake to get out of his reverie. The mirror swung yet again until it showed two, identical men standing side by side. They were big and barrel-chested, with brawny arms and matching, cheerful smiles. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. There was something _awfully_ familiar about them: the smile, the facial structure, and that flaming red hair...

"Harry," said one of them, stepping forward (that was Gideon, right?) "We're _actually_ meeting you—this is incredible!"

"Have I seen pictures of you before?" Harry asked slowly, still slightly squinting at them. "You seem much more familiar…" Fabian chuckled as he stepped up.

"Would it help if we tried shoving food down your throat and said, (and here he mimicked a much-too-high voice,) 'Harry dear, you've gotten _far_ to thin…have a third helping…and a fourth…and a sweater while you're at it.'"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"No." He dead-panned.

"Oh yes," replied Gideon sagely. "That'd be our wonderful, bossy, older sister."

"You're the uncles in those pictures on the chimney-mantel," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "Fred and George's middle names are after you two…Why don't I hear about you more often?"

Fabian shrugged dejectedly.

"You have to understand how hard it was for Mimi—sorry, _Molly_—oh yes, go ahead and laugh, we called her that, but don't ever use it around her. Regardless of how kind and motherly she seems, she'll shoot first and ask questions later if she hears that nickname again. But you see, she'd just had her fourth and fifth children three months before we died so she was already dealing with lots of stress, on top of the guilt that she wasn't more involved in the Order, as she was compelled to do. She didn't really get a chance to grieve and so it never really healed up. Understandably, they don't bring us up very often."

Gideon elbowed his brother hard in the ribs.

"Why do you always have to tell the sad stories?" he said, "You enjoy pity far too much for it to be healthy."

"The kid should know," Fabian protested. "And we never even got to meet Ron; we certainly deserve pity for that one."

"What's Ginny, the next-door-neighbor?" Harry said indignantly.

"So glad you brought her up," said James as the mirror's view turned back to him. "I'll be coming back to the subject of dear Miss Weasley and don't let me forget."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously. Something told him this conversation would involve a sufficient amount of blushing on his part.

"You'll find out," James said mysteriously, "But moving on with the introductions—you've seen Sirius…" Sirius' eyes loomed up behind James' head and he made a few rude faces while the older Potter wasn't looking. Harry snickered.

"He looks different," he said then, having just noticed this. "What happened to you!?" he called to his godfather. Sirius sobered the moment James turned. Now that Harry was paying closer attention, Sirius really _did_ look different. As in—much better. The lines had vanished from his face, the corners of his mouth were no longer pulled down into a frown, and the gray strands which had streaked his hair were nowhere to be seen.

"I died," Sirius said simply. "Not so bad as the stories make it sound, huh?"

"Not bad at all. You're alright then?" Harry really did want to make sure that his godfather was comfortable; after all he'd spent the last two weeks lamenting him, the least he could do was guarantee that he was okay.

"Never better," Sirius said happily. His eyes suddenly grew wide and he smacked James on the arm. "Harry doesn't even know yet!" He cried. "The big news! The big news!"

"Merlin's pants!" James cried, "You have to tell him!" The immediate change in his demeanor was so drastic it was almost comic.

"Tell me what!?" Harry cried. In the back of his mind, he was weighing the odds of this being very _good_ big news or very _bad_ big news since he'd had quite a lot of both dropped on him in the past two weeks.

"Don't tell him—we have to build up the suspense first," James said, looking gleefully mischievous.

"Oh James don't!" cried Dorcas, "Must you take the mickey out of everything!?"

"But—!"

"Just tell the boy!"

James sighed dramatically.

"_Fine_," he groaned. "Sirius—take it away!" Sirius took a deep breath before his words tumbled out with:

"I'mgettingmarriedtomygirlfriendfromwhenIwaseighte enandIactuallyproposednottenminutesago."

"_What_?" Harry said. Had he just heard what he _thought_ he heard or was that all an incomprehensible mess? Sirius took a deep breath again.

"I'm getting married to my girlfriend from when I was eighteen," he said slowly. "And I actually proposed not ten minutes ago."

"You're kidding." Harry replied matter-of-factly. He knew these two were jokesters; he was just waiting for Dorcas to call them out on their bluff. (Strange and comforting that he already trusted her to be the voice of reason, Harry reflected.)

"Oh no, no kidding involved; they're quite serious," said a new, merry voice. "Why, who else is asking? Is somebody new here?"

James' and Sirius' heads, which had been filling the mirror's frame, snapped up to look at something off to their right. Their expressions instantly changed to identical mixtures of shock, anxiety, and excitement. Sirius cut his eyes to Harry as if to say, "Get ready kiddo." Harry gulped.

"_Lily_," James whispered.


	13. Mum

_**Mirror, Mirror**_

_Mum_

_ James' and Sirius' heads, which had been filling the mirror's frame, snapped up to look at something off to their right. Their expressions instantly changed to identical mixtures of shock, anxiety, and excitement. Sirius cut his eyes to Harry as if to say, "Get ready kiddo."_

_ "_Lily_," James whispered._

Harry's stomach dropped and his mouth went dry. He gulped and glanced to Sirius for support but Sirius' expression didn't hold much comfort; he had a nervous grin plastered on his face that seemed to be a cross between "Don't worry, this will go great!" and "Don't mind me as I slowly inch away before something blows up—for better or for worse."

Harry gulped again.

_I'm going to see Mum._

James glanced at him once, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smile of apology before he slipped the mirror behind his back. Harry figured this was a good idea. They would need to explain to Lily what was going on before they displayed the live feed of her son right in front of her.

But this thought only brought on more anxious questions for the young wizard.

Would she shriek? Would she faint? Would she be in disbelief? Would she be overjoyed? Would he be able to click with her as quickly as he had with James? Would she give him advice or tell him stories? Or would she not know what to do with him at all?

Harry bit his lip just as he heard her start speaking again.

"James are you alright?" Lily said, sounding concerned, "You don't look so swell.…In fact, what's the matter with all of you—did I miss something?"

"Just fine," Sirius answered, his voice 200% too casual. "Where's Marls?"

"Marly's mother insisted that she look a bit better before she came over here," said Lily. Her tone suggested that she was still suspicious about the two men and hadn't _quite_ let the matter drop. "So I assume that Marlene is fussing at her, saying that we don't care if Mrs. McKinnon is still in her pajamas. Knowing her, that's going to take a while. They also wanted to bring Charlus and Dorea directly over here so that we can all surprise them with the announcement on the spot. I came back to tell you so you'd be ready."

"Really?" said James amiably. "Good plan. Did you come up with that one yourself? With the—" he hesitated for a split-second over the irony of his own words, "—big surprise?" His tone came across as more genuine than Sirius', though the slightly higher pitch of his voice gave him away. It was a mark of how thrown they were, not only by Lily's arrival but by Harry's presence as well, that these two Masters of Pranking and Deception had such currently obvious tells.

Harry grinned despite himself. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, _he_ finally got to be the one that threw somebody else off.

Point: Harry.

"_Mm-hmm_. Fun story, isn't it?" Lily said drily, obviously on to them by now. "Speaking of fun stories, which I just _know_ I'm about to stumble into, what's behind your back James?"

_This is it. It's about to happen. I'm going to see my mum!_

The mirror was effortlessly passed off to Sirius with only the most fluid of slight-of-hand tricks. Harry suddenly thought of the bizarre comparison that he was like the rabbit in the hat at a Muggle's "magic" show—the grand reveal, showcased by the slightly more chic version of the classic couple of grinning jesters. James and Sirius were certainly capable of exuding that vibe.

"What do you mean 'behind my back'?" James said curiously, and Harry could _just_ see him displaying his hands in innocence. "All clean, see? I wasn't stealing your milkshake."

"It's not the milkshake," Lily said skeptically, her voice louder as she apparently took a step closer to James. "No, it's something else, something bigger. ...Oh, don't give me that look James, I know you. Something happened while I was out. Now what was it?"

"Nothing. Sirius is engaged. It's big news to handle is all. I'm just processing—"

"What's in Sirius' hand then?" The mirror's view, which had been gently pressed against the black fabric of Sirius' cloak, shifted like it was being brought down.

"Black, I can see you, I'm not blind; whatever that is, you're sliding it into your pocket."

The shifting stopped.

Either Dorcas, Fabian, and Gideon were being as quiet as possible or they had fled the room. The only sound to be heard was the rapid beating of Harry's heart.

_I'm going to see Mum. I'm going to see Mum._

"Alright," said James, finally breaking the calm. "Alright, you caught us." Lily could be heard letting out a huffy breath, probably crossing her arms in the process.

"But before we let you in on this one," James said with the elaborate voice of a _stagecrafteer_, "You need to promise me something."

"You're making me nervous James. This is starting to sound like what happened last Christmas…"

"_Woah_ now, you promised you would never mention last Christmas! (Harry raised his eyebrows, tempted with the idea of shouting, "Yeah? What happened?" from within Sirius' hand but decided against it. Lily deserved to find out about him in a less (potentially) upsetting manner.)

"But Christmas is beside the point," James hurried along. "To tell this little story, I need to check something with you. You _are_ aware that Sirius and I had a, how do I put this delicately, arguably _less-than-immaculate_ detention record?"

"James. You'd had one hundred and eighty-three individual detentions by the end of seventh year and _Sirius_ beat that score by twenty-nine. You brag about it at _least_ once a week."

Harry snickered and immediately started tallying up the Weasley twins' yearly records. A rush of pride and pleasure washed over him when he realized that _those_ two only ever reached a shared accomplishment of one hundred and seventy-six.

"It's an impressive feat, Lily; give the man some credit," Sirius piped up. She ignored him.

"What exactly does this have to do with…?"

"I'm getting there. When the two of us had double-detentions, but in separate rooms, we used to communicate via mirrors. Little square pocket mirrors that we could see each other in and have a conversation with."

"Like Skyping, just cooler," Sirius said. He was still ignored.

"I'm not following," Lily said, "Where is this go…?"

"Hold on, wasn't finished yet…So you can communicate with the mirrors, right?"

"Sure."

Harry's glasses suddenly shifted and he realized that his fingers had been anxiously drumming on his cheek. He laced them and tucked his hands beneath his chin in order to control the motion.

_I'm going to see Mum. I'm going to see _my_ mum._

"Well Sirius gave Harry one of the mirrors for Christmas. So that they could talk whenever they needed to."

"Oh Sirius; that was kind of you…" Lily began, her voice taking on a sweeter tone.

"No, no; not the point," James interrupted, sounding like he was getting a little frustrated now, "The point is: Harry has one mirror."

A moment passed and no one spoke. Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his trouser legs, desperately wishing he could see what was going on. It came to the point that he almost up and cried, "It's _me_! I'm here! Please let me talk to you—I _really_ want to see you!" when Lily said,

"…_And_? What does that change? ...It's not like Sirius has the mirror now." However, her words were tinged with a faint hint of doubt. Sirius exploited that hint in a second.

"_You_ two have your wedding rings," he pointed out. "And Dorcas has her locket. Fabian and Gideon have those silly, matching, woven bracelets and Dorea found her scarf on her bedside table the morning after she died. Those things weren't just wished up and supplied by Other World, they only exist here anymore."

Lily made a noise halfway between a stutter and a laugh.

"You don't mean—?" she said quietly. "You don't mean that the mirror is—_wait_, hang on a moment!" She laughed at herself for a second and continued, "_This_ is what you cooked up while I was gone! _Now_ I get it! Well I'm not falling for this one, James Potter; I've gotten better about this sort of thing over the years. I suppose I just need to recalibrate now that Sirius is back in the mix as well."

"_Oh? _Think we're kidding?" James said, sounding amused. "What if I told you that we can _see_ Harry, right here, right now? And really _talk_ to him?"

"Then I'd call you out on your bull crap—simple case of hypothesis and conclusion."

"Really?" said Sirius, and the view of the light's pattern on the fabric changed as he shuffled the mirror. "So if I showed this to you, you'd be willing to bet that it's _not_ Harry?"

Harry's fingers started to tap again on the backs of his knuckles and he tensed every muscle in his body. A thought occurred to him then and he went to smooth his hair out, a futile attempt, he knew, but he gave it a worthy shot nonetheless.

_I'm going to see Mum, I'm going to see Mum._

"Wow, you really got a _prop_ for this?" Lily said, giggling a bit. She was still as good-natured as she'd been when they began, but it seemed like she was beginning to think they'd ridden the joke for too long. "Guys, this is one of worst pranks you've pulled yet…Dorcas, tell me I'm right—it's just a normal mirror."

"I'll tell you that you should probably sit down before they show you that 'normal mirror'."

"…_And_ they're paying you too…" she sighed and Harry knew that she was shaking her head. "Alright, let's see it then. Show me the mirror."

_I'm going..._

"You don't want to sit down first?"

"Guys. Show me the mirror."

_...too see.._

Harry hurriedly smeared his hair down one last time as the image in front of him spun around.

_...my Mum._

Lily was standing, facing him, with her arms crossed over her chest, her gold wedding ring glinting on her left hand. She wore a t-shirt and an over-sized gray sweater, one super-sized sleeve slipping off a shoulder. Her red hair was down and attempting to escape from where she'd tucked it behind her ears. In the instant that the view focused, Lily's expression went from a half-amused smirk to a shocked, jaw-dropped stare.

Harry swallowed again.

"Hey Mum," he said quietly.

She responded by coming forward slowly, as if in a daze, until she must have been a foot away from the mirror. Wordlessly, Sirius passed it off to her and she held it closer to her face, examining every inch of Harry's until her gaze at last rested on his green eyes.

_Her_ green eyes.

Fingertips pressed against the mirror's glass and Harry realized with a feeling of bitter-sweet empathy that she'd reached out for his face, as if to touch his cheek.

"Harry…?" she said.

Drawn by impulse, Harry matched his fingers against hers and smiled. Her bottom lip trembled.

"Harry, I…" Lily's eyes widened and she bit the trembling lip. To Harry's utter dismay, she did not look pleased. No, she looked as though she were on the edge of breaking down and weeping.

"Sweetheart," she said finally, her voice strained, "It…it wasn't supposed to end the way it did. We never meant to leave you. I'm so s—"

"_Don't_," Harry said sharply, surprising them both with the force of his tone. He blinked and continued in a softer voice, but remained just as firm.

"Don't apologize. Please don't. You didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault. None of it was."

"But…"

Tears were gathering fast along her lower lashline and threatening to roll down her cheek. And Harry did not, under any circumstances, want those tears to fall.

"I mean it," he insisted, "You didn't make a mistake. _Any_ mistakes. I—" he hesitated, thinking this may be a _bit_ out of line but decided it was necessary, "I—I'm really proud of you. To have you, both of you, as my parents...Thank you. Really."

She sucked in a short breath and beamed at him in..._gratefulness_? For pardoning her? Surely she hadn't been carrying misplaced guilt around for _this_ long. Harry certainly hoped not. She was smiling now, a really wonderful smile that pictures had never done justice, and the tears had gone and fallen onto her cheeks.

But they fell for the right reasons.

Harry and Lily both grinned at each other.


End file.
